


For the Love of Pecan Pie

by ShutUpGinger (Chameowmile)



Series: Old Stories [2016] [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: #First Order Trampstamp, Alternate Universe, Author!Hux, Barista!Kylo, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, For reasons, Germaphobe!Hux, Hux is a damn tease, Hux may or may not be lowkey alcoholic, M/M, Modern AU, Mostly fluff though, Pizza, Wingman Phasma, a damn tease I say, but not like, chill roommate Mitaka, copius fluff, drinking and alcohol, istg it's not as southern as the title makes it sound, some stuff happens at the end, they eat pizza a-lot, traumatic horrifying stuff or anything lol, winemom Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6948895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chameowmile/pseuds/ShutUpGinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting stuck inside a bookstore coffee shop, Hux finds himself a little smitten with the moody barista behind the counter.</p><p>Obviously, shenanigans ensue</p><p>***</p><p>Featuring art by the talented NovaSalt from over on Tumblr <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Man With the Mispelled Nametag

**Author's Note:**

> Damnnnnn, this thing made a total 180 in editing, like, I added almost 10,000 words to it from the rough draft alone, lol, but all of the changes were definitely for the better, and I'm glad I found the energy to bust through it and write all the extra stuff in cause there's a-lot of fluff that wasn't in the original

**-Hux-**

He doesn’t like going outside. He doesn’t like being around people. And he doesn’t like being _touched_. He’s miserable, and anxious, and just wants to go home, but alas, the snow storm outside won’t allow it, and so here he is, indoors, as he unfastens his red scarf with shaking hands and tries to relax.

He had been on his way to the Wegman’s when the storm hit, hoping to do some grocery shopping there while it was still late and empty, but of course, did not make it on foot.

Having walked, he quickly found himself panicking when the wind began to pick up, tossing old snow about almost as thickly as the fresh snow was coming down, blinding him in the process. He’d hurried his pace, hoping to make it home in time, but the snow whipping into his face had been overwhelming and he’d finally been forced to seek shelter.

He’d chosen a local bookstore to seek refuge in. It’s one he’s visited a time or two in the past, but never found more than mediocre, with its only selling point being that it’s almost always empty.

A little on edge, he quickly snags a special addition print of a book he already owns, wanting an excuse to be here, and makes his way over to the little coffee-shop up front to pay.

When he finds nobody present, though, he pulls out some of the clorox wipes he always carries with him, and starts wiping down a table to sit at for a little while.

He decides to go through his new-ish book.

Mainly, he wants to see if the illustrations are worth the extra money, because he doesn’t actually plan to reread the story again any time soon and kind of just wants something pretty to look it.

They are, he thinks, but probably only because he wants an excuse to buy another copy of the book anyway and is a little biased.

A sudden hand landing on his shoulder startles him back to reality, causing him to jolt in alarm and jump to his feet, dropping the book on the table as he jerks away from the offending touch.

A man, close to his age, stands there, looking a little annoyed, somewhat tired, but mostly like he’s seen this shit a thousand times as he crosses his arms and purses his lips, brown eyes narrowing impatiently.

Hux clears his throat awkwardly and somewhat hesitantly takes his seat again, as the barista continues to glare on.

“You startled me.” He says softly, the binding of his book now sagging from the drop.

The man simply sighs at this, clearly unphased as he dust himself off and starts to walk away, “We close in fifteen minutes. Pack up and get out."

Hux just blinks, wondering what the fuck his problem is.

Strangely, though, he finds himself fascinated by the jerk, and watches as the man sits down on a stool, sipping on a strawberry frappucino, and picks up a ballet magazine. Before he can catch himself Hux is picturing the man as a ballet student, and finds himself very happy with the imagery supplies.

Realizing that he’s gawking like an idiot, though, he flushes, awkwardly casting his gaze back to the floor and winces. The guy works in a fucking bookstore, he’s probably reading the magazine because he’s read everything else. There’s no way that he’s a dancer, regardless of what Hux’s fucking libido wants.

After a moment to gather himself, he stands up, battered book in tow, and makes his way over to the counter, where he grabs a carton of almond milk and a prepackaged gingersnap, before tossing them all down onto the counter with his book, avoiding eye contact with the attractive man on the other side.

The barista glances sleepily at everything, taking one more sip of what must surely be pure whipped cream now, and exhales a little tiredly as he moves to ring it all up.

The redhead glances at his nametag.

“Ren.”

This seems to jerk the other man out of his zone, because he immediately snaps his head up, as if electrocuted.

“Huh?”

“Your name. Ren. I like it. It's different.” He stumbles, face burning hot.

Brows knit thoughtfully, the man glances down at his badge, but rather than roll his eyes and scoff, he just says nothing, and scans the last item.

“Twenty four ninety nine.”

And it’s at that moment, of course, as he ponders the odd reaction to the compliment, that Hux realizes the barista’s name is not Ren at all, but rather Ben, with the ink of the first letter warped during printing.

_Well there goes the shop’s respectable employer status._

Intrigued by this weird snippet of information, in a way that only an author can be, he absently digs around in his pocket for his debit card, never trusting the cleanliness of physical money, and swipes it through the machine, pausing for a moment when it asks whether or not he wants cashback.

He nearly taps the “no” out of habit, trying not to think about the germs likely on the device itself as he selects his options with the pen and keeps his gloves on, but then he pauses, glancing up at the sleepy man on the other side of the counter, before clicking the twenty dollar option instead.

 

 

**-Ben-**

Ben hates working night shifts, but with his current school schedule he has no choice but to do them. He hates the dark, he hates the cold, and he _hates_ the customers.

They’re shady, entitled, and always order a bunch of shit ten minutes before closing so that he has to clean all of his equipment again and leave late. So when this guy sat down a bit ago, he decided to chase him out long before closing so that he could at least go home on time.

Fifteen minutes, he gave him, but now that the weirdly flinchy, cleanfreak redhead is standing before him (and yes he saw him wiping down that table), jabbing at the keypad like some kind of priss, he’s become keenly aware of the fact that the guy is literally his _type_.

Not the tall dark and handsome he’s always _thought_ was his type, but a perfect, smooth-skinned and pretty thing, with a small frame and a smattering of freckles across his nose and clavicles that he for some reason can't help but imagine in the glow of the fireplace in his uncle's Summer cabin...

He looks stressed, though, and as Ben goes to retrieve the twenty for his cash back, he wonders what might be on the guy’s mind, and of course, whether or not wrapping him in a blanket in a Summer cabin would help with that.

Realizing that he's staring, and that _that_ very well may be what's upsetting the stranger, Ben awkwardly jerks his gaze down to the right, skin warming as he hands over the twenty, “Uh, if it’s still snowing a-lot outside you could probably sit in here with me while I start cleaning up. I didn’t realize the weather went South."

Sheepishly, he peeks up at the man.

Rather than respond, though, the ginger just seems to consider him, eyes grating coolly over Ben in a way that makes him think he’s been taken for a teenager again as he nervously continues to hold the bill out, wondering if he's pissed the guy off with his floundering and lack of social tact.

However, before he can go too far down that rabbit hole of thought, sweat prickling at the back of his neck, the man shakes his head, and waves dismissively.

“Keep it. That’s your tip.”

"W...wait, wha-?"

"You can keep the food too." He responds simply, grabbing his book and practically sprinting to the door as Ben cries after him,

"Wait, are you sure?!"

Already ducking outside, though, he doesn’t hear, his only response being the tinny rattling of the bell above the door, before it slams shut again.

Confused, Ben glances down at the food left behind, and feels his face start to warm again, as he gently scoots the cookie and milk over to the side for later consideration.

Maybe night customers aren’t so bad after all.

 

 

**-Hux-**

Hux forgets all about the fact that he was supposed to be going grocery shopping when the weather settled, and rushes home despite the half-blizzard still raging, where he hangs up his coat, sets his money and cards in their tray, and gently removes his boots, to put them in the closet.

He resists the urge to shower or wash the floor, and settles down in his office instead, where he pulls out his writing pad, wraps up in a small red and black afghan, and frowns down at the paper with his favorite pen in hand.

The name Ren is scrawled across the top of the sheet.

He may meet his deadline after all.

 

 

**-Ben-**

He hates the dark.

Many of his worst experiences happened in the dark, and it’s hardly abnormal to find it frightening anyway.

Despite being 6’3” and fairly familiar with self defense, a walk home after sunset always makes him feel as if he’s in danger, or being followed.

The fact that it’s snowing tonight, further obscuring his vision, does not help this welling panic, and so, when he finally catches sight of his apartment complex in the distance, he speeds up a bit more than advised.

Naturally, in a fairly predictable fashion, a step down from the sidewalk ends with him slipping on a patch of ice, and slamming backwards, half in the street, half off.

He groans, hands scraped from a poor attempt to slow his skid, and rubs his neck, where he mistakenly tried to hold his head up when he landed, to keep it from hitting the ground.

Maybe he’ll fake whiplash.

Skip work tomorrow.

Skip _class_.

He lies back with a defeated huff and closes his eyes, the slight rise of the sidewalk making for a decent enough pillow.

He’ll come up with some bullshit excuse to see the campus physician.

Or maybe he’ll just spend the day sleeping on the counseler’s couch. It’s been a while since he last did that.

He thinks they painted their office like, a weird canary yellow color or something, though, and everyone who's mentioned it since then says it’s very hard to relax with, and he thinks that probably means it wouldn't be easy to sleep in.

Maybe that was the intention.

The arrival of somebody else jerks him from his meandering thoughts though as the sound of a motorcycle sends him scrambling to get out of the street

“Ben? Is that you?”

He blinks dumbly, turning to squint over at the form on the apparently _idled_ cycle, and sighs. Poe Dameron, of course.

“Yeah.”

“Why’re you lying in the street?” The man snorts. “That’s a good way to get yourself killed.”

Ben rolls his eyes.

“Long story.”

Poe’s still smiling though.

"Is this a ploy for attention?" He asks, shutting the bike down and climbing off it. "Or are you protesting the city for a sociology project?"

There’s a moment’s pause while Ben considers his options for witty comebacks, but when his sleep-deprived brain doesn’t come up with any, he just frowns, which makes Poe frown too.

“Hey.” He chides in an infuriating calm way, as he steps forward to place a hand on Ben’s arm. “Are you drunk?”

 _That_ kills the good mood quicker than anything, and he scowls, jerking his arm away as he glowers down at his friend and ex-roommate.

“Fuck off, I just slipped.”

Poorly shielded relief floods Poe’s eyes at that, and Ben is thoroughly tempted to throttle him for his lack of faith, but is cut short in his plans when the guy asks, “Well, you wanna ride?”

With an eyeroll and an annoyed sneer, Ben scoffs like a bratty teenager, snapping his gaze away. “I’m barely a yard from my apartment, why the fuck would I want a ride?”

“Because we’re going to _my_ apartment?” He snorts, cocking a brow at Ben. “You promised to go to Finn’s birthday tonight, remember?”

Despite the teasing, Poe seems more amused than annoyed, and like he thinks Ben should be _grateful_ that he's come unexpectedly to whisk him away for a social event instead of a good night’s of sleep.

And who knows.

Maybe he should be.

He grimaces.

“It’s past midnight, why the fuck are you having it so late?”

“It’s in the _morning_ , buddy, I just figured you’d want to spend the night so you didn’t have to get up and come over at six.”

"That’s worse! Why the fuck are you having a birthday party at six in the morning?!"

Poe bursts out laughing at that. "We had this exact conversation last week. Remember? Finn has morning classes tomorrow, and I work in the evening, so it's the only time we're both free."

As if scheduling a party on another day wasn’t a thing _everybody_ does.

Ben resists the urge to roll his eyes, and casts the man's bike a death glare instead.

“Fine. Give me a helmet. I'm not riding that death trap without one.”

Poe grins, and makes his way back over to the Deathtrap, where he grabs an object off the back. “You’re in luck." He chuckles. "I brought yours.”

And, with that, he tosses a black, ameteurly chromed thing to Ben, who catches it in awe and turns it over in his hands.

He didn't know they still had this.

It’s just a full-face helmet he bought for three bucks at the thriftstore when he was thirteen, but decorated in art class, to make it look cooler. He used it with his dirt bike for a little while until he crashed it, and it wasn't until he was fifteen that he dug it out again and added the chrome detailing in his dad’s garage.

The only thing he remembers about it is that he refused his dad's help when he offered to teach him how to chrome it properly, said some mean things that he felt immediately bad for, and then proceeded to fuck up the whole project anyway when he’d attempted it himself. He’d been too embarrassed to apologize to his father for being rude, having been oddly afraid of getting made fun of for his outburst if he did, and had been convinced that he’d lost the right to his father’s help anyway.

So he’d thrown the helmet away.

“How’d you get this?” He asks softly, wondering if his dad saved it from the trash.

“Finn found it when we cleaned out the old garage.” Poe responds. “I remembered it so I thought I'd give it back to you."

Ben sighs and pops the helmet on, finding that it fits much better than it used to as he makes his way over to the back of the bike, behind Poe, who's climbing on as well, and has disengaged the kickstand.

“Rememember not to touch those vents on the side.” He warns, as if Ben would do such a thing.

“I assure you, I’m hyper aware.” He mumbles, wrapping his arms around the other man’s notably softer-than-he-remembers middle, and tries not to think about how badly he burnt himself _last_ time he rode this stupid thing.

Poe’s newfound softness would be Finn's baking, if he were to guess. Kid’s a genius when it comes to baking.

It’s at that moment that he remembers with a twinge of regret, that he left the cookie and milk that the redhead had bought him(?) on the counter when he left.

 

**-Hux-**

The shower is never hot enough.

No matter how high he turns it, how scalding it is, or how woozy it makes him, the heat never seems to seep any further than his skin. He often leaves the shower with the urge to lie down in front of a fireplace, and curl up in his afghan. Unfortunately, this apartment doesn’t have a fireplace, so he has to make do with space heaters.

After drying off today, he recovers his glass of wine from where he set it on the bathroom counter, and gets dressed in his pajamas.

The bedroom is warm, thanks to two space heaters running in it, but he shuts them both off, knowing they’ll overheat him in a matter of minutes if he doesn’t.

He was only able to brainstorm a little bit for his story, chewing the cud of an idea, before inevitably wrapping up, and moving onto his nightly cleaning routine instead with no more inspiration wanting to present itself to him.

Since he started so late, it's now two in the morning and he’s exhausted. Too tired to write, but too wired to settle down, he’s taken to sipping wine and cleaning.

His mind is still running laps, and the house still seems like a bacteria trap to him, so he’s now just trying to see how much alcohol it will take to make him sleepy.

He’s on his third cup now now, but his tolerance for alcohol has him debating whether or not he should just go for the hard stuff instead by this point.

He doesn’t. If only because he doesn’t keep anything like that in the house.

Exhausted, he crawls into his bed, and pulls up the book he purchased earlier.

It’s an old favorite of his, from when he was still a child.

A scifi novel, not his particular favorite genre anymore, especially now that it’s what _everybody_ is flocking to these days, but still one that holds a place in his heart, since it did rescue him many times from his dreary life, and inspire him to become the author he is today.

He doesn’t write fantastical books as he had always hoped to as a child, but rather focuses on grittier, slice of life tragedies and working class tales, finding them more close to home than he used to.

The barista will make a perfect subject for one of those stories, he thinks.

Certainly the type that's doomed to die at the end.

Unfulfilled and without ever having achieved his dreams.

A pity really.

 

 

**-Ben-**

He’s so tired of sharing his personal space.

He groans pitifully as one hundred and forty pounds of obnoxious cousin slams into his back, mad because he’s taking up too much space on the couch (as in, _all_ of it).

“How are you so _heavy_?” He whines, not even bothering to get rid of her, as he buries his face in the armrest and tries to go back to sleep.

“All muscle.” Rey responds cheekily, her grin audible in her voice as she unpauses the movie they're watching and reaches over to get some popcorn. “You know, you made a better couch before you decided to go all body builder on us.”

He laughs despite himself. “You mean when I was bony enough to cut steel with my elbows?”

“Yep. Now you _are_ the steel.”

“You _are_ the steel, Ben.” Poe echoes dramatically, slapping him on the shoulder as he watches the movie.

 _The Martian_ , Ben thinks they’re watching, but he’s slept through most of it and has no plans to pay attention now that he doesn’t know what’s going on. He shifts awkwardly under Rey’s weight, and tries to roll over, as Finn’s voice exclaims, "You started the movie without me?!" from the kitchen doorway.

Rey bursts out laughing. "What?! No! It started on its own - ooh, what's that?! You made food?!"

“Oh c’mon Rey, don’t play dumb, you’ve smelled peanut butter for fifteen minutes, you had to know I was making something.”

Much to Ben’s relief, she finally climbs off of him, presumably to go relieve Finn of his muddy buddies, as the two of them sit down on the floor by the coffee table.

He knows better than to think this means they’re gonna let him sleep, though.

 

 

**-Hux-**

When Hux can’t sleep, he tries to write.

And when he can’t write, he has a bit more wine.

And when he has a bit more wine, he calls Phasma.

“Do you need me to come over there?” She asks. “I can bring movies and food.”

“I want pizza.” He agrees sleepily, jabbing at his typewriter keys in an unproductive manner just to watch them work.

“Sure thing, Gin-Gin.”

He snorts a little drunkenly at that.

*******

As usual, Phasma brings about half the stock of a convenience store with her, and refuses to let Hux pay for any of it as she sets everything out for eating and leaves him to remembering an old college friend’s Netflix password.

 _Bestpilot1_.

Hux actually has an account of his own, but he never knows what tv shows are relevant or good, so it helps to see what Poe’s been drabbling in, as well as what he’s saved in his “recs for Red” folder, which he still puts things in even though they haven’t been in touch for years.

He clicks on that and is confronted by the usual mix of “ironic” fantasy and sci fi television shows that the man is always trying to get him back into, despite the fact that they haven’t talked in ages, “like when we were kids, buddy!”,and then some detective series and grittier shows like the majority of the stories he writes.

He clicks on NCIS in the end, deciding that Hannibal is probably an excursion for another time, and turns it to some old episodes that he already knows he’ll like.

Phasma plops down beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulder in what could be mistaken for a romantic gesture were it not for the fact that she’s practically crushing him with the tightness of her hug and dragging him in like a black hole.

It’s actually quite threatening.

“Not gonna let you go ‘til you tell me what’s up.” She intones darkly, not even looking away from the television as she continues. “The last time we had a night like this was when you found out your dad died.”

Hux flinches at the reminder, though it’s been years.”

“Nothing...” He mumbles. “Just uninspired, sleepy, and a little bit drunk.”

“Only _you_ would try to get drunk off wine.”

*******

There’s only one pizzeria in town that he really trusts not to poison him. It’s the one Phasma’s father opened after he retired from firefighting, a cozy hole-in-the-wall type of place, where he never bats an eye at Hux’s weirdly specific food handling requests, and often-times lets Phasma cook the food herself, so that it’s absolutely perfect for his little “fireball’s” needs.

_”It looks like someone set your head on fire.” The man had joked one day, many years ago. “And I swear your hair just gets redder and redder every time I see it.”_

And it wasn’t even a lie, because over the years his hair _has_ gotten redder.

Hux sighs softly, the memory warm as he closes his eyes and tries to relax, despite the fact that every time he does so Phasma tries to force feed him peanut butter cookies. She doesn’t do it this time, probably getting that he’s exhausted, and he just notes the way that she always seems to smell of smoke when she visits, thanks to the brick oven they use in the restaurant.

She's never really bothered him in terms of germs and hygeine. Probably because of how long they’ve been acquainted, and she’s probably the only person he’d ever willingly huddle up with like this. Her presence is safe and amniotic, and skin contact with her makes him sleepy and calm.

Now if only he weren't so incredibly homosexual.

He knows he’s reached the peak of sad and tipsy when he starts contemplating dating Phasma. She always teases him about how much of a pot-head he seems when he’s like this, always dipping nutterbutters into marshmallow fluff, and making weird revelations, as if he were high. Sometimes he _is_ tempted to send her out to buy edibles, but he never actually asks, the last time he even bothered with that being when his father died and the two of them decided to act like dumb teenagers as a result.

He’s probably gonna end up sick, he realizes, with as much as he’s eaten, but he doesn’t really care as he opens his eyes and starts picking his way through a box of congealed dinosaur fruit snacks, sipping on a cherry coke. Not even diet, like a real rebel.

Phasma is currently on her fourth slice of pizza, staring at the television intently, and has not made an effort to strike up conversation in a long while.

Which is fine with Hux, since there’s very little he’d like to discuss with her at the moment.

Her presence is soothing enough on its own.

*******

After a significant portion of the food is eaten, and half a season of tv watched, Hux still can't sleep and the sun has decided to rise. In the end, he manages to write a few miscellaneous paragraphs for inserting into his newest story later, and gets an okay amount of work done. Descriptors, and settings are jotted down, and stray thoughts that he liked the sounds of, as well as a handful of notes and plot points he’d like to have.

Eventually though, he finds himself unable to write any more without further analysis of his new muse.

Naturally, his next course of action is to eat the rest of the nutterbutters and marshmallow fluff from last night, some pizza, and clean his house, knowing he won’t be able to focus with the itch of it on his mind.

Then, when the sun has begun to set again and he’s showered, he leaves for the bookstore, where he hopes the man makes a habit of working late shifts.

When he first arrives, it’s a different employee entirely, “Finn”, his nametag says, but after setting Hux up with a prepackaged sugar cookie and some sweet tea, he disappears into the back, and after a few minutes, “Ben” from last night comes in to relieve him of his shift.

The two baristas talk quietly for a few moments, Ben casting Hux an interested glance, before they separate and go their opposite ways.

It’s obvious Ben wants to say something to Hux, but is hesitating. Maybe he’s afraid the redhead will want his twenty back, or maybe he’s just not sure what to say.

Hux starts taking notes in his notebook.

_Awkward, timid, nervous - probably a college student - doesn’t have a-lot of money, and has holes in his hoodie._

Glancing at the clock, Hux sees that it says 7:12, indicating the man was probably supposed to start work at _7:00_ but arrived late.

Which means he’s either a slacker, or had something happen to delay him.

Hux could go the “down on his luck, hard worker” route for this story, but a story about a tired student uninterested in life sounds a bit more appealing to him personally. Everyone's done the, "misunderstood young adult" cliche, but not a-lot of people embrace the reality of being twenty something and not caring about life.

He jots both scenarios down and takes a sip of his sweet tea.

It’s not very good, and after the first few sips the sweetness is replaced by a strange bitterness that he’s not fond of, but he's nothing if not unnecessarily frugal, so he keeps drinking it anyway.

Besides, it's the only kind they sell pre-bottled.

He purses his lips thoughtfully, and then, after a moment, does something that would make Phasma proud.

He orders a drink.

A real one, mixed by the barista.

He stands up, setting his tea down, and makes his way over to the counter, where Ben is sitting on his stool again and playing around on an ancient looking Android with a miserably cracked screen.

Not having done anything like this in years, Hux prefaces with an awkward, “So what’s the best drink you sell?”

The man looks a little surprised, either because he hadn’t noticed Hux standing there, or because he hadn’t expected that particular question, but then he smiles, and sits up sheepishly, setting his phone aside,

“Caffeinated, or not?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Hux smiles back, finding the man’s dopey demeanor a little endearing. “What’s your favorite?”

It occurs to Hux that he’s flirting, when a vibrant flush settles over the other man’s features, and he awkwardly looks away.

Ben (or maybe it _is_ Ren?) pulls himself together after a moment, shaking his head clear of what must have been some distracting thoughts as he scrambles to regain his composure.

“Uh, how about an iced seasalt caramel macchiato?”

“Is that your favorite?” Hux asks, a mistake on his part, because it seems to fluster the already frazzled barista considerably.

“N...no.” He mumbles, cheeks reddening again. “But you seem like the sort who would like it.”

An observational one, then. Thoughtful, as well, it seems. Eager to please, perhaps. All good traits of an interesting character.

Hux smiles and gives a nod. “C’mon, show me what you can do.”

Normally he’d never drink something made by another human being. But it’s odd, somehow when Ben finally hands it to him, clumsy and visibly embarrassed, Hux has no qualms about taking a sip.

Perhaps his mind is still registering Ben as the main character of his new book, rather than a real person.

Disassociation at its finest, he decides, taking another sip because the drink proves to actually be quite good.

 

 

**-Ben-**

Ben studies the ten dollars on the counter for a moment,before sighing and finally pocketing it. If this guy’s gonna be giving him tens and twenties every time he comes in, that might end up being a problem.

Aside from the fact that he isn’t even sure if he’s allowed to accept tips, he doesn’t know what the man wants.

Is he flirting? Or is he just generous?

And if he flirts by giving money, what does that say about his character?

And if Ben still _likes_ him even though he flirts by giving money, what does that say about _his_ character?

Also, since he only gave ten this time does that mean he didn’t like the drink?

He gnaws at his lip thoughtfully, and heavily sits down on his stool again, frowning.

If a monkey eats an apple on a tuesday what's the position of Mars?

In all seriousness though, the man’s cute, seems nice, put together, smart, and despite the dark rings under his eyes, is probably not much older than Ben himself, regardless of the fact that he looks to have some kind of well-paying job and is most likely out of college.

He’s fidgety though. In a kind of worrying way that Ben can’t place. Like he’s off his meds, or isn’t really aware of his surroundings.

He's fairly certain that he could take the man out if he needed to in a fight, but working night shift has always made him more nervous to the whims of others, and he doesn’t really like the idea of being alone with someone who might freak out and knock over some shelves, or try to steal a potted plant.

Not that the guy seemed like thesort...it’s just, you never really know.

He sighs and rests his head on the counter.

It’s still ungodly early in his shift, but he’s stressed, and so, decides to take his “lunch” break early.

It’s not like there’s anybody to stop him.

He sits back up rather stiffly, rubbing the back of his neck, and gets out of his stool, bending down to access his backpack by the espresso machine, an old battered blue thing that he doesn’t really know the origin of, and opens it.

He’s not supposed to have it up front with him, but always brings anyway, knowing he’ll forget it when he leaves if it’s not in his sight.

From it, he gets a tupperware and some silverware he brought from home.

He sets those items down on the counter, and then goes about making himself a small Strawberry Frappucino like he always does.

He never pays for them, but nobody’s really said anything about it, so they either haven’t noticed, or just don’t care.

Maybe this’ll be the thing that finally gets him fired.

A boy can dream.

He sits back down with a sigh, drink in hand, and pops the container open.

It’s filled with nothing of nutritional value. Leftover cake from Finn’s party. A slice of mushed German chocolate, some vanilla with a whipped topping, and a strawberry cupcake drenched in sprinkles that’s mostly frostingless now that it’s been smacked around in the container a few times. He scoops up a spoonful of frosting from the side, a conglomerate of coconut, chocolate, whipped cream, and strawberry, and adds a pile of equally mixed cake crumbs to it before popping it into his mouth and noting that the gingersnap cookie from last night is actually still here, sitting behind the counter.

Maybe he'll eat that too.

Sugar cravings. The life and times of Ben Organa-Solo.


	2. Craft Fair Date

**-Hux-**

Hux finds himself dropping by the coffee shop more often than he generally would. Three or four times a week.

It reaches the point where Ben becomes so comfortable with Hux being around, that it’s almost as if the barista doesn’t really notice he’s there. A preferable state of being when you’re trying to watch how somebody acts in their private time.

Ben’s not a good worker, and at first, Hux just assumed it was because he didn’t care, or was lazy and indifferent. He slacks off, steals product from what the redhead has seen, frequently disappears into the back for naps, and seldom has his workspace in order until the very last second when he has to cleanup for closing.

It wasn’t until Hux began looking closer that he started seeing more of the picture. Perhaps it’s all conjecture, cooked up by a mind wanting something other than cliche, or perhaps it’s the truth, and he’s just very observational.

Ben will often stay to a specific corner of his station, sitting on a stool, and doing various things, ranging from scribbling in a notebook, to reading free sex-ed pamplets and what Hux is pretty sure was a gay romance novel at one point.

He seems unbelievably bored, and as the days pass, the younger man begins to steadily deflate more and more, until he looks as if he’s about to cry from the lack of mental stimulation in the coffee shop, and just sits with his head smooshed against the counter, staring off into space. He still sets up a random drink for Hux every day, and still manages to get the bare minimum done like always, but where he used to look relatively optimistic for a sleep-deprived college student, he now just seems unbelievably depressed, and the most Hux ever sees him do these days is eat various sugary desserts, and chew his nails. A gross habit for a food service worker, but it doesn’t bother Hux as much as he thinks it should.

Strangely, the most disheartening thing of all is the fact that the man doesn’t appear to make himself Strawberry Frappucinos anymore. Maybe his boss talked to him about it, but somehow Hux thinks he’s just lost the energy for it.

It’s because of this that Hux does yet another thing that would make Phasma shed a tear of joy.

He invites the man over to hang out.

“Do you have anything to do tonight?” He asks softly, jostling Ben from where he was apparently just staring at the wall, when he goes up to pay off his tab.

The barista frowns as he processes the question, but slowly, realisation dawns on his face, and a flicker of delight flits across his features.

“I...n...no! I’m free, uh, why?”

“We could order pizza.” He says, hoping he’s not playing this off too creepily. “I'll have friends over."

“Really, you’d want me?”

“Of course!”

 

 

**-Ben-**

He doesn’t know why he agreed to that, but now he feels a little queasy. Not because he’s worried...at least, not because he’s worried about Hux. He’s grown rather fond of the strange man in the past few weeks, but that’s just it! He doesn’t want to fuck this up!

Butterflies catch in his throat, and all he can manage to choke out around them are some awkward half-parsed responses to whatever his new friend says. Hux doesn’t seem too bothered by it, so maybe that means he’s not being as horribly obvious as he thinks, but it’s never easy to say with him, and he worries he’s being obnoxious.

Forcing himself to take a breath, he decides to think logically about the whole situation.

He knows literally nothing about Hux aside from the fact that he writes stories.

He doesn’t know what Hux wants from this get together, and because he’s never really been much of one to date, he really has no idea what to think about the offer as a whole, or what it means.

“If you’re ready, we can walk to my place, together.” Hux cuts in, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Alright!” He calls from the backroom, where he may or may not have been hiding. “I’m uh...just let me shut off the lights first.”

 

 

**-Hux-**

He glances over at Ben, who appears to be glancing around nervously, huddled in his coat and scarf as they walk toward his apartment, as if frightened by the dark streets.

He texts Phasma.

12:46 PM  
[Hux]: I’ve changed my mind, can we come to your place instead?  
[Phast_Lane]: Figured you wouldn’t want to hang out at your place. Already setting things up for our little /guest/ ;)

He grimaces at that, not entirely sure what she’s attempting to convey by the emphasis on “guest”, but decides not to question it at this moment in time, as Ben yelps beside him and starts scrambling backwards, nearly tripping in the process.

“What’s wrong?" Hux asks, a little panicked as he snaps his gaze around to investigate.

"It snuck up on me." Ben whispers, just as the redhead finally sees what startled him.

An orange ball of fluff.

“A cat.” He says in surprise, kneeling down to greet the orange-furred devil. “Millicent, hon, come here.”

The creature perks up at its name, and immediately turns towards him, leaving Ben in peace as it prances over for a nuzzle, before she can rub her face all over him though, he grimaces and jerks away, scooting back until she meows dejectedly as if remembering that he doesn’t like to touch her much anymore.

Ben doesn’t appear to have noticed, kneeling down in turn as the cat returns to him again, and starts rubbing against his leg. "You know its name?"

“She’s mine.” He agrees softly. “My friend’s been taking care of her for a couple years, but she gets out a-lot.”

Ben is now cooing at the animal, smooshing its face in his hands and praising it for its accomplishments as an escape artist.

Hux can’t help but smile at the sight, glad to know the barista is good with animals, for reasons he doesn’t quite understand, and watches the two of them for a few more moments, before sighing, and drawing himself back up to his feet.

“Well, I imagine she’s cold out here, so we should probably get her back inside.”

Ben seems more than delighted to comply, as he scoops the spoiled cat up into his arms, and follows Hux’s lead to the apartment, still fawning over the animal.

“She doesn’t even shed!” He exclaims at some point, once they’re inside the apartment building.

Hux glances over at the man in black, still snuggling the animal, and nods.

“She’s naturally a long-hair, Phasma has her groomed and trimmed frequently. It keeps her from shedding much.”

Ben gives her a squeeze, eliciting an audible little squeak from the cat, before nuzzling her up against his chest again and burying his face in her fluff.

“I love cats.”

Hux decides to leave him to that. Millicent seems pleased about the attention, in any case. She’s not used to people being energetic at this time of night.

It’s with that thought that it occurs to the redhead, a little guiltily, that it’s literally past midnight.

“Do you take any classes tomorrow?” He asks, not wanting to be held accountable for keeping the man up the night before a test.

Sobering a little, Ben glances up from his coddling of Millicent, and shrugs. “Thursdays are the only day of the week that I don’t really do anything. I have the day off from work and school.”

“Oh...well that’s good then.” He responds, smiling in relief. “I imagine you get a-lot of classwork done then, with a whole day off.”

He casts Hux an unexpectedly dirty look at that, as if the mere idea of it were sacrilegious.

“I’m not wasting the only free-time I get a week on _more_ work.” He snaps, smooshing Millicent against himself in an apparent attempt to calm himself down.

Hux flinches, wondering if he’s hit on a sensitive topic. “I take it you’re a full-time student then?”

“And a full-time employee.” He mutters. “On top of my work study in the library.”

A little impressed, but also knowing when to shut up, Hux starts making his way toward the stairs again.

“I went to law school.”

“Yeah?” Ben asks softly, mood visibly softening whip-lash quick. “Is that what you do? Law?”

“No.” He scoffs, harsher than he’d like. “I imagine my father would have liked that. But the work was miserable, especially within my family’s branch, so I joined the army instead, just to get away from it all. I started writing while I was in Afghanistan.”

“So...uh, are you a journalist?” He asks, interest clearly piqued. “Does it pay well?”

“Novelist.” He corrects, but before he can answer the latter question, Phasma appears.

“Are you two coming up?!” She cries, visibly exasperated at the top of the stairs. “ Or are we gonna have to eat this pizza without you?! It’s been ten minutes!”

Predictably, the college student perks up at the mention of free pizza, and forgets he even asked a question at all.

Hux, on the other hand, finds himself suddenly uneasy, and forgets the question for a whole other reason.

“Who is _we_?”

 

 

**-Ben-**

“Who is _we_?” The redhead asks, giving the woman above a scrutinizing look.

She looks only mildly apologetic, and casts him a cheeky little smile, “Oh, you know, Mitaka popped in last second. Nothing to get your panties in a twist over.”

“I didn’t even know he was in the US.” Hux grumbles, as if he’s more put-out than actually annoyed. It makes Ben wonders if this means this ‘Mitaka’ is an ex or something.

“Oh come on.” Phasma snorts, turning to make her way back up the stairs. “You act like he’s gonna give you ebola or something.”

Hux mutters something along the lines of, _He very well might_ , but not loud enough for her to hear as he stomps up the stairs and past the both of them, leaving he and the woman to stand awkwardly with Ben still holding the cat. Or, more accurately, _only_ he to stand awkwardly holding the cat while she grins after Hux in clear shit-eating amusement.

“Should I, uh...know who Mitaka is?”

“Just my roommate.” She muses. “He’s an emergency response specialist for the CDC, so Hux always thinks he’s gonna end up with some kind of weird disease from him when he comes back home. Usually he avoids Mitaka for a month, but I guess he’s feeling lucky today.”

Ben cocks a brow at that, but decides not ask the stupidly ignorant, _”Okay, but_ could _he have some weird disease I should know about._?” on the tip of his tongue, and just gives an awkward nod instead.

“And how do _you_ know Hux?”

“Oh, me?” She asks, locking him in a frighteningly predatory gaze. “I’m his wingman.”

*******

Hux is already in the apartment when they arrive, perched gingerly at the edge of a loveseat with a mug of tea in his hands. He appears to be glaring none-too-subtly at the mousey young man sitting across from him, and looks none-too-happy.

Ben finds it a little funny, especially since the other man doesn’t even seem remotely put off by it, as if it’s normal, and just continues to nonchalantly read an Ebook on his tablet, occasionally taking a bite of Hawaiin pizza.

After a moment of surveying the room, just to get a feel of the place, grinning a little excitedly at the idea of having been invited to somebody’s _pizza party_ , Ben sets the cat down, and then sits on the far end of the couch with Mitaka (closest to the food on the coffee table), and across from Hux, who he smiles at.

The man’s expression softens a little at the sight of him, in a way that makes Ben’s heart warm, and he sets his tea down gingerly on an end table to his right, uncrosses his legs from where they’re tucked beneath him, and gets up to fill his plate, grabbing the two slices of a thin crust cheese pizza.

Somehow that is just _so_ fitting for Hux.

After a moment of watching the man, as he tucks back into himself on the love-seat, food in tow, and draws a soft looking black and red afghan around himself, Phasma hops into the seat between Mitaka and Ben, dragging him in with an arm around his shoulders, as she points at the food.

“This one in the box is half Hawaiian, half meatlover’s, that other box is chicken bacon alfredo, and that weird looking one is a thai pizza. We’ve also got cheese-sticks, breadsticks, and pasta in those containers over there, and there’s desert in the kitchen assuming Mitaka didn’t eat it all while we were still downstairs...” (The man snorts softly at that.) “...Anything you want to drink, we probably have in the kitchen, and any chips or cookies you find in there are free game too cause my mom keeps sending me Costco care packages and I don’t actually eat any of that junk, so whatever Mitaka doesn’t claim for his lair can go home with you.”

Ben smiles despite himself.

“You’re offering me your reject snacks?”

“Like a true friend.” She agrees, releasing him with a smirk, so that she can get her hands on some pizza as well, reaching first for the thai one, which smells damn good, even if it looks weird.

*******

After finally getting his food, a slice of alfredo, thai, and cheese pizza, Ben tentatively sits down beside Hux, a rootbeer in hand, and smiles at the ginger, who seems to have gone a bit shy as he pulls his afghan tighter around him.

“Having fun?” He asks, sounding a little nervous, as if Ben might say no.

To his relief, Ben lights up, grin broadening considerably as he makes himself comfortable.

“This is great!” He gushes. _Nobody ever invites me to these things._ “I didn’t realize how much I needed a break until now.”

A look of warm relief, and possibly adulation softens Hux’s gaze, and the man nods, smiling softly as he moves to sit a little more comfortably.

“I think I’m gonna get dessert now.”

*******

Dessert proves to be a mess of things, and it’s upon seeing it all that Ben realizes the reason why Mitaka had laughed, because he probably couldn’t have eaten it all if he’d tried. There are hot cinnamon rolls, which Phasma had in the oven, orange rolls too, chocolate breadsticks with icing, a lava cake, a dessert pizza that looks to be an apple crisp of some sort, fresh chocolate chip cookies, chocolate peanut butter bars, and even no-bake cookie mix that apparently didn’t get to its proper temperature so they have to eat it with spoon.

It’s safe to say that he’s probably gonna regret trying everything, but that doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway, splitting his portions with Mitaka, who seems to take a weird warmth in the fact that it was _Phasma_ who cooked it all.

He also shares some with Hux, who though he seems to have a small appetite, seems guilty of a major sweet tooth, having claimed much of the no-bake cookie batter for himself.

*******

Ben can truthfully say that the only times he’s ever fallen asleep in somebody else’s home without it being a sleepover was that rather infamous party he got sick at, and that other time he got heatstroke and passed out in his dad’s garage, though he isn’t sure if the latter counts as falling asleep.

Now though, he can apparently add midnight pizza party to that list, because when he wakes up in the morning, curled up on Phasma’s loveseat to the sound of breakfast in the kitchen, he’s more than a little baffled as to how he nodded off without knowing it.

Hux doesn’t appear to be around, much to Ben’s disappointment, but when he finally, awkwardly, extracts himself from all but one of the blankets that have been piled on top of him (the afghan Hux had been snuggled in last night), he finds that the redhead, along with Mitaka and Phasma, are all inside the kitchen.

Hux appears to be eating a parfait, nursing a weirdly translucent orange drink of some kind that Ben’s gonna bet is Airborne, while Mitaka seems to be handling the majority of the breakfast food preparation, Phasma sits on the counter nearby, eating a parfait of her own.

She’s the first one to spot Ben upon his arrival, but before she can make some quip, Hux notices him too, eyes falling innocently wide as he sits up a little straighter, acknowledging him.

“You’re awake.”

The statement is weirdly spoken, as if the man hadn’t expected Ben to ever wake up again, but the barista smiles anyway, sitting down across from him, and resting his head on his arms sleepily.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Guess I was more tired than I thought. Didn’t mean to crash on your couch.”

There’s an odd silence, Hux’s mouth working as he tries to find his words, but his plight is cut short by Mitaka, who was apparently staring at Ben for some reason, but is now looking at Hux.

“Any plans today?” He asks, clearly trying to break the strange ice that settled.

Hux blinks gratefully, and crosses his arms on the table, scooting his parfait in a little closer to himself.

“Ben doesn’t work today, so I was considering paying the winter craft fair a visit...if he wanted to go of course.”

Ben perks up immediately at that, zoning in on the offer swiftly.

“I’ve never been to a craft fair before, but my cousin goes to them all the time, and she says they’re right up my alley.”

He realizes a little late that it’s kind of weird to talk about himself as if he has to have other people tell him what he will and won’t like, but Hux doesn’t seem to notice the weird statement, merely seeming delighted that Ben wants to join him.

“We’ll leave at seven then.”

“Seven?” He gawks, mouth falling stupidly open. “What time is it now?’

“Five.”

“And you’re all awake?!”

“Nobody survives the military with their circadian rythym intact.” Phasma snickers back from across the room.

*******

“Chocolate chip pancakes.” Mitaka announces, setting a plate of them down in front of Ben a little proudly. “And some buckwheat, but that’s for losers like Phas and Hux.”

Hux scoffs, still picking at his parfait, but says nothing. Phasma on the other hand, smirks, and hops down from her seat on the counter, walking past Mitaka and giving him a hard slap on the shoulder, which makes him wince.

“Don’t knock the buckwheat like a bratty kid. It tastes ten times better than it looks.”

He laughs.

“Whatever you say.”

“I _do_ say. My word is law, eat the buckwheat before I make you.”

Lost in their banter, neither of them notice the way Ben stares reverently at his food, glancing up at Hux who’s staring at him strangely. “I haven’t had chocolate chip since I was a kid.”

Hux doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

 

 

 **-Hux-**  
They reach the craft fair uneventfully.

Once they enter the mercantile building it’s being housed in, Ben’s eyes go wide as saucers, and he takes in all the goods around him, including a tote bag made from recycled cowtail wrappers that he seems to really like.

Somehow he can’t bring himself to mind.

Phasma and Mitaka have already gone their seperate ways, Mitaka disappearing to check out the spice mixes and canned goods, while Phasma is probably just on the prowl for samples.

Hux settles in comfortably beside Ben, as he continues to peruse the selection of weird candy-wrapper bags, though it seems obvious that his favorite is still the cowtail one. “

“Guess your cousin was right, this really _is_ right up your alley.”

*******

“So what are you going to school for?” Hux asks at some point, as Ben paints a henna tattoo onto his own arm, a privelage earned by practically begging the booth owners to let him do it himself.

From the looks of it, he’s ending up with a rather intricate floral design on his left arm, complete with some small elephants and even a rooster meshed into the overall piece.

It’s certainly impressive.

Ben however, appears to be pouting, and it takes Hux a moment to realize that it’s in response to his question, and not a reaction to his artwork.

“Mechanics. Welding. Some general carpentry.”

Ah.

Well that explains his bitterness on the subject.

“Family trade?”

“Yeah.” He fumes, tossing the Henna pen aside and flexing his hand a little to study the design he painted across it. “It’s all they’re willing to pay my tuition for. Unless I wanted to be a doctor. Like my mom. But I get sick around blood, so I uh...couldn’t go that route.”

“I’d think they’d have more than enough to spend on your college if they’d been willing to pay for med school.” Hux frowns. “No matter what you wanted to go for.”

Ben scowls.

“Well, she only offered it as an option because she knew I wouldn’t want to do it. It was a ‘Take after your dad or be a doctor.’ sort of thing.”

“Ah...the lesser of evils then? Still, couldn’t she afford it anyway, as a doctor?”

“No.” Ben sighs. “She's a volunteer. Works overseas most of the time, though she _is_ in town right now.” He sighs. “I have a trustfund that I'm working through, but it's almost empty now that I only have a year left in school. So there'd be no point in changing my major. I probably could’ve run off with the money and done my own thing had I thought about it, but I don't know what I'd have gone to school for anyway. It’s not like I have any skills.”

Deciding not to say anything stupid, Hux studies the gorgeous design spiraling across Ben’s hand and arm blankly, and then shrugs.

“It took me half my lifetime to realize I had a talent for writing, even though people had been telling me so for years. Once you figure it out, everything will click into place, and a-lot of things will start to make sense.”

Ben rolls his eyes, probably having had this pep-talk in the past, and drags himself upright.

"That's what I'm afraid of." He responds dryly, brushing off the now dry Hennac ink to reveal the black and brown patterns buried beneath. "That I'll figure out what I'm good at once it's too late to do anything about it."

He moves to leave the booth with Hux, having already paid, but before he can, a hand grabs his shoulder, startling him in the process, as he spins around to face the booth owner.

She smiles apologetically, but doesn’t actually say sorry, instead asking, “Hey, wanna work here?"

He blinks dumbly, apparently caught off guard.

“Huh?”

“Sorry.” She laughs. “We need extra hands on market days, and you did such a pretty job on yours that I think you’d be great for the position. It’s mainly tip based, and we pool the income, so you might not get much, but if you wanted some pocket change to spend in the stalls we pay same-day in cash!”

He looks for a moment, as if he is about to refuse, but then pauses, mouth working a little as he seems to do some math in his head.

“I can definitely work on Thursdays, but if you’re out here Saturdays, I also have free time then.”

Hux blinks.

"A third job?”

The kid’s clearly dedicated.

Dedicated to everything that isn’t his classwork, it seems.

 

 

**-Ben-**

It’s been years since he last enjoyed himself this much.

They decide to let him work for two hours today, since he did show up pretty late, for twenty bucks plus some tips, only to then let him leave an hour before the fair closes, so that he can also spend that money in the stalls and have some fun. He debates buying some soap for his mom, but instead settles on a blueberry lemonade cupcake to eat himself, as well as a strawberry rhubarb bar which he wraps up for later. The rest of the money gets pocketed for future expenses.

Surprisingly, Hux doesn’t seem put out at all by how long they spent here, having insisted he’d stay, even allowing Ben to paint some daisies on his right hand at some point, though he did hide them back under his glove again when they were dry.

As they make their way out of the building, despite the chill in the air, the sky is clear and the sun is out, basking them both in a soothing biological warmth.

Ben can’t help but note how beautiful Hux is in the sunlight.


	3. Winemom Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring art by NovaSalt.tumblr.com!!!  
> It'ssocute

**-Hux-**

He and Ben hang out twice more with Phasma and Mitaka in the coming weeks, but from there, they start spending more time alone, instead.

It’s difficult to find time to meet up with Ben’s honestly quite ridiculous schedule, but when they do, he can safely say it’s worth the wait every time, the frankly adorable brunette always so genuine in his reactions to things, and pleasant to spend time with.

Hux sometimes makes notes of Ben’s personality like he used to, for his story of course, but with each moment spent together, he finds himself growing more fond of the man in real life, and less with the watered-down imitation of him that the character in the book has become.

For once, life has grown more appealing to him than fiction, and it’s with this revalation that Hux hits another writer’s block, for reasons entirely different than the first time.

Frequently, he still visits Ben at the coffee shop in the evenings, to keep him company and sit with him on his lunch break while he taste tests whatever drink concoction the man has come up with for him.

Today he has an iced vanilla chai, oversweetened like Ben always makes, and _very_ vanilla.

At around eight, Ben comes, and plops down beside him on the armchair, balancing a chocolate peanut butter cookie and a strawberry frappucino in his hands as he settles in beside his boyfriend.

It’s a wonder he hasn’t gained weight from that diet, Hux muses, though the thought is laced with concern, because in recent weeks he’s actually noticed that Ben seems to have _lost_ some weight. Stress, perhaps.

Ben rests his head sleepily against Hux’s shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts, and closes his eyes contentedly.

"I'm so sleepy."

Hux frowns, removing his gloves gently so that he can card his fingers through the other man’s knotty hair, and asks, “When’s the last time you slept?”

“That nap I had on Phasma’s couch yesterday.” He mumbles, purring softly into Hux’s petting.

“Remind me to schedule you an appointment with my old hair dresser.” He teases softly, fingers catching in the man’s knotty curls as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to his temple.

Ben makes a little pleased noise in the back of his throat at that, too content in his current state to even register the jibe, and just nuzzles in closer to Hux.

Maybe he likes getting his hair done. Phasma and he can make a date out of it.

Hux allows his gaze to skim lovingly over the other man for a moment, but comes to a halt when he spots his boyfriend’s name-tag, brow quarking.

“Kyle?”

Ben blinks drowsily. “Huh?”

“Your nametag. It says ‘Kyle’.” Hux snorts. “Don’t tell me I’ve been calling you the wrong name for the past two months.”

Ben snorts, closing his eyes again. “Couldn’t find mine.”

A pause.

Then Hux feels the sudden spark of insperation, smiling, “Ren Kyle.”

“What?” Ben asks, brows knitting in confusion as he finally pulls away from Hux’s petting, and sits upright.

“Kyle Ren?” Hux tries again, frowning because it’s still not quite right.

“I’m so lost. You’re not having a stroke are you?”

“No, no.” He chuckles, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ve been thinking of what to name the main character in my new book.”

Ben snorts despite himself. “Well Kyle Ren sounds stupid, throw in another syllable.”

“Kyl _o_ Ren?”

He smirks. “Yeah, it’s all mysterious and shit.”

Hux smiles too, and pulls him back against his chest, resting his chin against the other man’s head as he goes back to snuggling him. Ben’s lunchbreak probably ended ten minutes ago, but without any customers, it’s not as if it makes a difference whether he sits and does nothing here, or sits and does nothing behind the register.

“What’s your favorite kind of book?” He asks.

Ben scoffs, and Hux has no doubt that he’s probably rolling his eyes too. “Sorry to break it to you, but I hate reading.”

He probably should’ve seen that coming. He smirks.

"I used to read scifi when I was a kid."

“Oh yeah? And what changed to make you go all old man and boring in your writing?” He teases, though there’s no real scorn behind it.

"I’ll have you know that authors are very sensitive to people’s opinions.” He chuckles back, giving Ben a playful swat. “Don’t insult my writing.”

“Fine you big baby.” He mumbles, having sunk down to the point that his head is now pressed against Hux’s belly. “I’ll be nice. But I still wanna know what changed.”

Always having had a weird reaction to people touching his stomach, the redhead flounders weakly for a moment. “Well, uh, I like slice of life stories because they give me an opportunity to write about experiences that I’ve had, and handle them how I wish I would have. Fix my past mistakes, in a way. Also they make for a good venue to vent if I want to make a character positively miserable.”

“Living vicariously through your stories?” Ben chances.

“Exactly.” He agrees warmly, deciding then and there that Ren is going to get a happy ending.

He leans down to kiss the back of the other man’s head, and brushes a thumb across his temple.

“Who was your favorite author when you were a kid? Even if it was when you were really little and still looked at picture books.”

Ben makes a funny little noise at that, probably the result of him trying to laugh with his face pressed to Hux’s stomach, and the vibrations send a shiver down the redhead’s spine.

“Annie Walker.” He responds.

Hux clears his throat awkwardly, blushing a little now, and wonders if he should make Ben move before he ends up too flustered. “I’m, uh - not familiar with her.”

“ _Him_.” Ben corrects softly. “And yeah...uh, he’s super old timey. Late seventies and early eighties. Sci-fi like you liked, but super cheesy. I found some of his books in my uncle’s attic when I was a kid, but you can’t buy them, so I’m missing some and the condition of one or two is questionable.”

“I’m rather fond of old, forgotten books.” He murmurs back, finally deciding to push the huge puppy off of him, as he gently readjusts himself so that he can stretch his legs, forcing Ben to sit up and blearily rub his eyes like the big toddler he is. “Especially ones that make such a clear impact on one’s childhood.”

“Amongst other things.” Ben mumbles. “Probably not appropriate reading material for a nine year old but aside from that, they kept me company for years, and every time I reread them, I got something new out of them.”

“That’s how the best stories are told...would it be possible for me to see them somtime?”

Ben sighs, and after a moment, sits back against the opposite arm-rest, finally breaking his cookie in half.

“No, except I don’t have them anymore. My dad took them from me when I was younger to get them restored and rebound at a shop...but I never got them back."

“How come?”

He just shrugs wordlessly, falling a little silent.

“They must’ve forgot they had ‘em.”

“Did you ask for them back?”

He deflates a little. “Uh...no, it was way too late before I really noticed, and if they did end up in the house, then it’s possible they got misplaced, or my mother sent them to Goodwill on accident. I’ve looked around the shop once or twice, and in the attic countless times, but haven’t found them.”

“What were the books called?”

Ben smiles, much to Hux’s relief, and shrugs a little, popping a cookie piece into his mouth as he makes himself comfortable again. “Different things. The main series was called _”Tales From Beyond the Stars”_ , or something serialized and weird like that, but all the books were different. I had no idea what order they were supposed to go in though since half of them were missing their back covers and half of them were missing altogether, so it was certainly a bit hectic to read them.”

“I’ll look into them.” He chuckles back, glancing up at the clock to see that it’s nine. “I have a-lot of connections in that industry, fortunately so I may be able to find you a set.”

Ben looks positively touched by the offer, quelling any fears that the redhead may have had about the whole thing is way to cheesy.

*******

“Do you wanna come over tonight?” Hux asks, as the clock ticks closer to eleven, and Ben finally drags himself up to clean the shop.

“Could we go to your place?” He asks, rinsing out a milk carafe.

“Well, yeah.” The redhead laughs. “That’s what I aske-.”

“I mean...your _actual_ house.” He interjects. “Phasma said you weren;t _really_ her roommate last time we had movie night.”

Hux swallows.

“I...um...I suppose so.” He agrees hesitantly, scratching his palms. “It couldn’t hurt, right?”

Ben frowns a little, apparently noticing his discomfort, and reaches out across the counter, placing a soothing hand on his arm. “I won’t make anything dirty.” He promises. “I won’t even touch anything. I just want to hang out with you, and...uh, if it’s too much you really don’t have to agree. Phasma’s place would be fine too.”

He flushes, well aware that he’s being unreasonable, and straightens himself out, steeling his nerves.

“We’ll try it...but I’m not...it’s not as _simple_ as whether or not you make things dirty, it’s all very complicated, and I don’t think you’ll have as much fun there as with Phasma and Mitaka. I have a-lot of house rules.”

His gaze softens so considerably, loving and warm, that Hux feels like he may actually swoon. He doesn’t fortunately, but Ben’s next words nearly do him in, anyway.

“Write me a list.” He says, clearly determined. “Go over them with me on the walk over, and don’t be afraid to tell me if I’m doing something wrong. I want you to be comfortable. Okay? Even if you think it’ll annoy me, I promise it won’t. I’ll follow every rule, no matter how weird it is.”

The redhead can’t help but smile in relief at that, and nods.

Most people don’t understand.

 

 

**-Ben-**

He’s nervous.

Yep, definitely nervous.

He inhales tensely.

Is it normal to be this nervous?

“What floor do you live on?” He asks, after Hux mentions that he’s actually in the same complex as Phasma and that that’s how he managed to pull off the apartment-swap thing as fluidly as he did.

“Top.” He responds, sounding a little nervous himself, though Ben hopes he’s not regretting his decision to say yes. “Phasma pulled some strings to get me one of the newer apartments when I was first discharged from the army, so it was actually still being built when I first got down here. I lived with her while waiting for it to be completed.”

“Why were you discharged?” Ben asks, eyes popping open in surprise at the interesting little fact.

Hux chews his cheek momentarily, and the brunette worries he may not respond, or that he crossed a line.

“Injured.” He finally relents. “I nearly lost the use of my right arm.”

“Woah...is that why...uh...”

“No, I had issues before all of that, though the stress from that accident did make them worse.”

“That really sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Would’ve sucked more if they’d actually had to amputate it.” He chuckles back, flexing his right hand thoughtfully. “But that’s all in the past now.”

*******

Hux’s apartment is on the very top floor as promised, brand new and freshly built. It doesn't really look newer though, and Ben doesn’t think it’s any nicer than Phasma and Mitaka’s is. If anything, it’s _less_ nice, because it seems unlived in. The paint is the original, the smell is chemical and dusty like he’s never opened the windows once, and the lighting is all fluorescent for some reason, which the redhead says he doesn’t know the story behind, but hates so he usually just leaves the curtains open in the day time.

The fact that Hux doesn’t appear to own any personal artifacts aside from a typewriter and a laptop is a little disheartening.

As requested, the redhead shared his “rules” with him on the walk here, so Ben, as he promised, is trying his best to follow them. He had to remove his shoes, socks, and jacket before coming in, hanging them up in the closet by the door, then had to promise to shower immediately and pick a towel that would be his for every time he visits from now on. Apparently Phasma has a towel too, a cheery peach colored one with white flowers, and Hux of course, though his is apparently in the wash. Ben himself picks a blue one with stars on it, because it was the scratchiest, and he’s always hated soft towels.

Ben takes such a long shower, that by the time he’s done, Hux has managed to throw his clothes in for a quick wash and has left them folded, warm and dry, on the bathroom sink.

Once Ben is redressed and feeling a-lot better than he has in a while, Hux takes care of some quick ablutions of his own, mumbling awkwardly about how itchy he always feels when he doesn’t shower after coming home, but seems determined to speed things along by simply washing his face and hands.

Ben however encourages him to shower too if it’ll make him more comfortable, and that it’s not a huge issue if he has to wait, but also apologizes in advance in the event that the hot water runs out.

Hux had laughed, sounding rather exhausted, but in the end had agreed, saying something along the lines of, _”You’re lucky it’s you, because I’d have had to clean the shower first otherwise.”_

Something about the statement makes Ben frown in concern, wondering if his presence is making the man uncomfortable. He’s been aware for a while that his boyfriend is very OCD about some things, but never quite understood the extent of it. Aside from the way Hux avoids ever touching things with his bare hands Ben hadn’t quite thought it was this bad.

Hux eventually reappears, hair dripping wet and endearingly messy, as he casts Ben a sheepish smile, and starts making his way toward the kitchen.

“I know it’s late, but I figured I’d make something to eat.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He agrees sheepishly, popping open one of the cupboards and stretching out to grab something from an upper shelf. Ben notices two things as he does so. One, Hux has a tramp stamp, and two, his cupboards are fucking _barren_ save for the one box of macaroni he seems to be reaching for.

Obviously though the trampstamp proves to be the thing that catches his eye the most, snorting softly as he sidles up behind Hux, and pushes him gently against the counter, a hand running over the design.

“You have a tattoo.” He chuckles against the man’s neck.

The sound the redhead makes at that is positively undignified, as he spins around, cheeks burning apple red, and drops the macaroni clattering to the counter.

“I do _not_.” He retorts, sounding a bit like a petulant kid, as if saying so will somehow change the fact that he literally had something tattooed to his flesh.

“Is it from your wild and crazy youth?” Ben presses, grinning a little. “I never took you for the tattoo sort.”

The man is sucking on his bottom lip now, gaze flicking between Ben’s chest and his face quickly as the two of them take an awkward moment to realize that they’re _really_ close, and then he looks away, ducking out of the arm’s caging him in.

“I suppose you could, uh, say that.” He mumbles, grabbing the box off of the counter. “I got it when I was still in the service. Got drunk with some comrades and woke up with it the next day.”

“Ah, so it’s your only one then?” Ben asks, forcing himself not to be too disappointed by the missed kissing opportunity as the conversation progresses.

“Oh God _no_.” Hux laughs. “I have a-lot, they’re just not as embarrassing as the stupid trampstamp.”

“Woah?! What?! How many?! Can I see them? I didn’t even get a good look at the one I _did_ see.”

A positively dangerous smirk spreads over the little devil’s features.

“Seven. And don’t worry, you’ll get to see them...someday.” He purrs, lashes fluttering in a positively sinful manner as he says this.

Ben gulps.

He’s never really thought about Hux in that way before. Not for lack of _wanting_ to! It just felt like an invasion of the other man’s privacy and he hadn’t even been sure if Hux would be into that, but now, fuck, now he practically has _permission_ to and God he wishes his hormones would tamp it down for him.

The little redhead throws on a face of pure innocence at his poorly masked distress, and turns back to the stove, where his body language has gone languid and positively soft, making Ben want to wrap him up and kiss him. It occurs to belatedly that the guy is doing this one purpose.

The damn tease.

And of course, the ruse works, getting Ben hot and bothered, as his eyes follow the man’s every move.

He knows they won’t be going that far tonight, they haven’t even kissed yet, but damn does he like the view.

*******

“So, why the weird noodles?” Ben asks softly, quarking a brow at the weird mish-mash of them in his bowl.

There’s a moment of weird silence, as if Hux hadn’t heard the question, but then his gaze falls down, landing on Ben’s portion of macaroni, and he shrugs.

“I think it was just the only Kosher brand I found.”

“You eat Kosher?”

“Yep.”

“Oh...uh,” He frowns, trying to remember whether or not he’s been feeding the guy innapropriate things on their dates over the past few months, or even what the guidelines for kosher are outside of the “no pork” rule.

“I'm _not_ Jewish." Hux cuts in, before he can panic too much. “The food’s just...um...less questionable? I am vegetarian though.”

Ben blushes at that thought, finding it fairly unsurprising. “Oh!” He exclaims, connecting the dots a bit. “That’s why you only ever eat the cheese pizza!”

“Amongst other things.” He hums back, seeming strangely delighted that his partner caught on so quickly, as if he’s used to being asked to explain.

The barista can’t help but smile at this, glad to have learned something new about the man he’s chosen to spend his time with, and digs in.

*******

The rest of the evening passes fairly uneventfully, Hux washing the dishes and showing Ben the way he likes it done, while the two of them make small talk, and Ben finally gets a good glimpse at the tattoo, Hux pulling up his shirt enough for him to see, and making teasing innuendos at him as he does so.

Ben allows his thumbs to skim over the design a few times more than they necessarily need to, taking it in as Hux shivers softly beneath his touch. Red and black ink, and a design that looks almost like a gear inside a hexagon.

Hux had explained it was the somewhat unnofficial “coat of arms” for his patrol, and that some lone soldier used to draw it a-lot, long before the redhead himself was even born, on his journal and belongings, so that even people who couldn’t read English knew what things belonged to him. That soldier died in the line of duty, and in his honor his comrades turned the symbol into one that meant a-lot of things, and yet, nothing specific.

“I like to think it’s a symbol of existence.” Hux had murmured, running his fingers back over the slightly raised surface of the ink before pushing his shirt back down again. “A reminder that even when we’re gone someone may still remember us.”

He’d paused after saying that, however, probably realizing how heavy that thought was, and then had snorted.

“Or maybe it’s just a reminder of the disorder in my life, and what happens when I drink too much.”

Despite it being said as a joke, Ben had sensed a bit of sadness behind the statement, and gently, before he could think better of it, he’d wrapped his arms around the thin man’s waist, and pulled him in tight, and planted a kiss to his lips.

They remained like that until the sound of Ben’s phone ringing had jolted them from their peace, and though it had been a wrong number, the mood had dispersed, so they finally said their goodbyes, and though the brunette would have loved to kiss the man goodnight, for some reason they hugged instead, before awkwardly going their seperate ways.

*******

Ben decides to go grocery shopping the following day.

He doesn’t drive much anymore, hasn’t since he was a teenager, so he usually goes shopping with other people. Today, Finn and his trusty old black SUV are helping him out, since the man tends to handle the grocery shopping for the apartment that he shares with Poe and Rey, and knows the tricks to it.

“Okay, hold up.” He says, when Ben starts putting things into his basket. “You’ve gotta tell me. Who’re you cooking for?”

Ben blinks, face flushing instantly at the question.

“What do you mean?” He asks dumbly, knowing how terribly he’s playing this off. “I’m just refilling my pantry.”

He’s worse at lying than Finn is, and that’s saying something.

The man quarks a brow, knowing grin on his face.

“Normally you won’t even spend ten cents on a packet of ramen. The only time I _ever_ see you buy real food is when you’re dating somebody and want ot feed them.”

As usual, Ben’s predictability has him cornered, and he sighs in defeat, shoving a box of wheat thins into his basket.

“Just this guy I met at the shop...the redhead.”

“I didn’t know you two even knew each other!” He exclaims in apparent delight. “How long has that been going on?”

Ben flushes.

“Two months.” He relents, smiling softly at the news finally being out, even though he was hardly keeping it a secret in the first place. “We’re still pretty casual though since I haven’t had much free time to do all that lovey dovey stuff, but I figured the least I could do is make him some food. He’s got the whole ‘I can only eat macaroni’ thing going on like some kind of bachelor.”

Finn snorts at that.

“There’s always _one_. Maybe I’ll give you some of the banana cream pie I’m making tonight, you can bring it to him if he’d be into that.”

“Oh yeah, he loves sweets.” Ben pipes up, liking the idea, only to pause. “Except he’s weird about the way people handle his food, so I’d probably have to make it myself, and I think he’s picky about his dairy brands...so maybe I can make a pecan pie instead.”

“Ooh, you haven’t done that in _years_!”

“Yeah...” He laughs awkwardly. “Dad loved them.”

Finn casts him a pitying glance, but knows better than to press the topic, as he goes to grab ingredients for the banana pie.

*******

Apparently Finn is really good at couponing.

Ben knew this but it blows his mind every time he sees it firsthand, the way the guy seems to have a discount for even the most _obscure_ brands that they might find.

With everything combined at the end of the evening, Ben still has fifteen dollars left of his original forty, but seventy five dollars worth of groceries in the back of the van, and a little heap of free candy bars that they got by doubling up on bogo offers. Hux probably won’t eat those, but damn are they a bonus anyway.

*******

Ben doesn’t have a fridge in his campus pod, not a real one anyway, and so, borrows some of the cupboard space in Finn and Poe’s apartment, riding back home with him, so that he can put it all away. He marks his own groceries those little red dot labels you can buy, so that people know they’re his.

Poe’s currently out at the repair shop, so Ben doesn’t see him, and Finn disappears pretty quickly to go study for some sort of exam, complaining about the odd lack of cooking in his _cooking_ class.

As of such, it’s Rey who comes trundling down the stares at three o’clock to see him. Tousled from an apparent nap he’s a little envious of, she smiles broadly.

“Has the food fairy come to grace us with its presence?” She teases, trying to act like she doesn’t care that they haven’t seen each other in two weeks as she pokes her way through the snack bowl on the table.

Rey’s hair is a mess, partially un-bunned, and frizzed in the tell-tale “I haven’t combed it yet” way as she pads around in blue plaid pants and an “ironic” vintage My Little Pony t-shirt that she’s probably had since she was thirteen, and yet, still looks good on her.

He feigns a pout at her.

“Unfortunately for you, no. I'm just storing my things here because I have no space in the dorms for it. So don’t eat anything on these shelves.”

She opens her mouth to speak, pointing to an oatmeal raisin bar in the bowl, and he laughs,

“Okay, _fine_ the snacks are free game. Just nothing with the red stickers on them.”

“Ooh.” She coos, plucking it out and quickly checking it for a sticker. “Did Finn get them as freebies?”

“I don’t even have words to describe his couponing talent.” He responds genuinely, snagging a grape from his groceries and popping it into his mouth because he hasn’t eaten yet. He decides to start making something for Hux, and pulls together wheat bread, almond butter, and apricot jam for a sandwich, hoping the guy isn’t deathly allergic to nuts or something.

Probably not, considering half the shit Ben mixes up for him at the coffee shop. He snorts as he remembers the peanut butter mint incident, which he’d only discovered his mistake in when he’d accidentally grabbed the redhead’s cup instead of his own one day.

He’d meant to grab marshmallow syrup, not mint, because the guy had mentioned his weird habit of dipping nutter butters into marshmallow fluff.

Lost in thought, it only takes him a couple seconds to pull together the sandwich, not skimping on the filling since Hux could probably use the extra food, and tosses it into a ziploc bag. One of the fancy ones, with the actual little zippy things, cause Finn had coupons for them and they only ended up costing like seventy-five cents.

Content, he scrawls what kind of sandwich it is on the labelling part with a tacky blue Sharpie that for some reason has the _One Direction_ logo on it, and sets it aside, before returning to the fridge, where he pulls out a strawberry yogurt cup, one of those little almond milk cartons that he knows Hux likes, green grapes, and from the pantry a handful of wheat thins and a small bag of cherry chocolate granola, before tossing it all into a purple camo lunch box that he thinks Rey's had for about a hundred years, and considers what else he could add.

He imagines this small amount will probably actually last Hux the entire day, (if not two) with the way he nibbles and grazes, but decides to toss in some gelatin-free peach rings anyway, some string cheese, and a strip of Raspberry fruit leather to fill in a little more space. Thoroughly absorbed in his task, he also writes up a small note for Hux that includes the brands of all the ingredients so Hux can look the nutrition facts up on his phone if he wants to, as well as a detailed account of how he handled the food in case Hux wants to know.

Rey is still standing behind him when he finally zips it up, hands steepled in front of her mouth like a proud mother, and when Ben turns around, she’s clutching her chest sentimentally.

“Mah boy’s growin’ up.” She says, wiping away an imaginary tear. “Baby’s got a boyfiend.”

“Oh God, did Finn tell you?” He groans, oblivious, as usual, to how damn obvious he is.

She snorts, dropping the weird southern mama persona. “Oh yeah, as if he even _needed_ to. I’m just wondering when we get to meet the lucky boy.”

“You just want an excuse to try and intimidate him!”

“Uh, _yeah_? Duh! Someone’s gotta do it! If he can’t survive the family treatment, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Ben lets out a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms and giving an eye roll.

“Fine. I’ll see if he’d want to have a get together with you morons. But it might be a while. He's shy. And my mom is _not_ coming!”

" _Aw_ , that's cute. We’ll see about that."

"Rey, no!”

“I was _joking_ , hardass, we can’t get our party on if we have old people around!”

He bursts out laughing despite himself, and she grins.

“Then again, you’re an old man yourself.”

It almost feels like they’re kids again.

 

 

**-Hux-**

Since Ben is apparently studying today after all, despite it being a Thursday, Hux doesn’t really make any plans with him, and instead just spends the day cleaning his house. He bleaches, and scrubs, and dusts every surface he can reach, until his fingers are red and stinging.

Some mold in the cupboard makes him clean the kitchen two more times on top of it, and then when he’s as content as he’ll ever be, he moves on to the bathroom for a few more cycles of washing down just about everything.

The itch in his skin diminishes to a mild prickle, which is worse than usual, but better than it _could_ be, as he grabs his wine, and sits down to write, hoping it will help him relax enough to at least block it out for a little while, since he knows it’s not gonna fully go away even if he _does_ clean the house again.

At the coffee shop last night, he gained some much needed insperation for his novel from Ben during their conversation.

He’s decided to write a sci-fi novel, and dedicate it to Ben.

It’s cheesy and poetic but Hux is tipsy and doesn’t currently give a shit.

Ben also mentioned something about Kylo Ren sounding like a “mysterious” name, so that’s certainly sparked his imagination a bit, and he finds himself a bit tempted to juxtapose the sci-fi with some sort of noir vibe, an old thirties style Great Depression universe, but with some crazy technological twists. He’s always wanted to write a noir, and the idea has him grinning stupidly like an idiot.

He’s hesitant about making Ben’s character “evil” in the story, but something about the man has him wanting to do it, like his puppy-dog demeanor alone would probably lend him to harm in another life, following blindly at the heels of the first person to make him feel loved.

Hux winces at the thought, realizing that he may have drank a little _too_ much wine if he’s reduced his boyfriend to no more than a character to psychoanalyze, but figures he can do damage control later, when he’s sober. Maybe he’ll make Kylo the wrongfully accused murderer of somebody, and have _that_ be the twist ending.

Wrongfully accused but pushed to murder later? By somebody who may have cornered him with allegations? It was self defense but nobody will see it that way...

Fuck he’s drunk.

It’s as he’s making an observation about Ben’s propensity for expressing everything on his face, and how that might be difficult for a dark mysterious villain to pull that off without a mask (and that he could maybe pull off something like that in this noir-scifi landscape), that a knock sounds at the door, and cuts off his thought process.

He swallows, not having expected anybody at this time of day, with Phasma at PT, and Mitaka sleeping off a cold (that he swears isn’t Ebola or bird flu), and worries he might actually do something dumb in his currently enebriated state.

Walking carefully, so as to keep from falling face first on the ground, he peeks into the viewport.

It comes as little surprise to him when he sees that it’s Ben, and a smile cracks across his face.

He throws open the door with far more enthusiasm than he would normally care to display, and pulls the man into a surprise hug, smooshing an old purple lunch box between them as Ben makes a soft yelping noise like Millie does.

“Oh, wow!” He squeaks, glancing down owlishly at Hux, who probably smells of wine and bleach. “Somebody’s drunk.”

“Im’a legal adult.” He mumbles back stupidly, still not releasing Ben from the hug that’s presently holding him in place. His manners catch up to him after a moment of course, and he pulls back, pushing his messy fringe away from his forehead. “You wanna drink?”

“N...no, uh, I...” He seems like he’s about to say something, but then he just shakes his head. “I just came here to bring you lunch, or I guess dinner? But I have to go...unfortunately. Still have some studying to do, spent the whole morning grocery shopping and stuff.”

Hux glances down at the bag awkwardly, well aware that he’s probably fucked something up, even if he’s too drunk to place just what that thing would be exactly.

“That’s sweet, hon.”

Ben looks uncomfortable.

“Are you okay? It’s like, four o’clock, isn’t that a little early for drinking?”

It’s at that moment that Hux realizes that it’s the alcohol itself that’s making Ben uncomfortable, but also that it’s _way_ earlier than he thought it was.

“I’ve been up since five.” He slurs dismissively, trying to steel himself into acting as normally as possible. “It’s like midnight for me on my clock, ‘n the wine was stronger than I expected. Sorry, babe.”

He seems a little placated by this explanation, and just nods, smiling softly as he brushes past him and into the house, where he moves into the kitchen and starts unzipping the bag.

“It’s all stuff I think you’ll eat...maybe. But if there’s anything you don’t like you can just leave it, and I’ll, uh, eat it myself tomorrow for lunch, okay?”

“Are you visiting tomorrow?” Hux asks, genuinely hopeful.

“If I find time to, then yeah.” He assents quietly, knowing he can never truly make a promise with the way his boss books him for overtime. “If you’re okay with that, I mean. I’m working day-shift for a while so I should be able to pop in around one or so.”

Hux perks up at that. “I’d love if you visited me.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh...you make everything feel warm.”

His eyes go wide and lovely at that, the drunken genuinity of Hux’s mumbling apparently getting to him, and then he smiles, reaching out to pull the redhead in for a hug.

“You’re such a mess today, but I love you so much.”

It comes out so naturally that neither of them notice the words he just uttered, as instead, he shoves a water into Hux’s fingers and kisses him on the cheek. “No more wine, _please_. And open your windows, it smells like bleach in here.”

Hux just smiles at him, and nods.

 _See you tomorrow_ he thinks, but for some reason doesn’t say.

 

 

**-Ben-**

Ben had been a little panicked after realizing that he’d totally forgotten to buy the ingredients for a pecan pie for Hux, despite not even knowing if the man likes pecan pie at all.

It just seems...important.

He’d resolved to pick up the ingredients after dropping off Hux’s food, and had, upon arriving at the other man’s house, actually been grateful that he hadn’t gone through the trouble of baking the thing today.

It’s stupid, but he thinks it might have actually hurt his feelings had the man been drunk when he finally tasted it, and he knows _he_ himself would have been in the wrong had that happened anyway, when it was obvious that Hux hadn’t been expecting visitors at all, and he’d kind of barged in without notice.

Ben breathes in fondly, cheerful against all odds.

At least Hux seems to be an amiable drunk, things could have certainly been worse.

He’ll cook up the pie on Thursday.


	4. The Chapter Where Everything Happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't let the shortness of this chapter fool you

**-Hux-**

He still hasn’t kissed Ben back, and he’s starting to feel a little bad about it, worried that if he doesn’t do it soon he might make the man think he isn’t wanted.

It doesn’t help that Ben still seems really sad...Hux doesn’t like to see him sad.

The brunette definitely has a-lot on his plate, with finals, work, his family, and Hux, and he hates that he might be a burden to the guy.

His lack of physical affection is not meant to be dismissive, but he imagines Ben might start seeing it that way if he doesn’t get over his nervousness about this soon. He’s _really_ come out of his comfort zone with his relationship already - in a good way! - but things that seem so insurmountable to him are so simple for other people, and he worries that Ben might not see being invited into his home as the equivelent of a confession of undying love, or understand how difficult it was for him.

As of such, he resolves to kiss Ben today.

Because while he usually sends him off with a kiss to the temple or cheek, he knows how much an unexpected display of affection can cheer the man up.

*******

He tries not to let it get to him, Ben did say he’d only be visiting if he had time to, and Hux knows his shifts have been weird lately, but after the first cup of alcohol (that was supposed to be _calming him down_ ), he panics and decides to go check in at the coffee shop, see if the guy is there.

When he enters, the first thing he notices is that the barista working is not Ben.

Their nametag says Kyle.

He barely acknowledges Hux’s presence, apparently in the midst of cleaning up in the middle of a rush.

Having no intention to dawdle, the redhead stalks up to the man, a little more irritated than he really should be, and asks, “Is Ben around?”

“Ben?” The man repeats, looking a little disgruntled as he sizes Hux up. “No. He didn’t show up today. Didn’t even call in”

That sends alarm bells ringing in his head, but he steels himself deciding that it’s possible Ben may have finally gotten sick of the job and quit in a bad mood.

“You haven’t heard from him at _all_?”

“All I know is I’m stuck covering his shifts until six.” He grumbles. “I swear he has the worst schedules on this Earth. He better come in tomorrow.”

“And why are you so sure he’s not dead in the hospital somewhere?!”

The guy rolls his eyes. “Why do you care? He clearly isn’t that close to you if you have to go snooping around his work to find him. Now if you’ll excuse me, the corporate machine stops for no man and I have shit to do.”

Hux balls his hands up into fists.

He _knows_ how to find Ben, he’s not an idiot, he just didn’t want to go snooping around his campus first thing in a panic in case the guy was actually just working.

*******

The campus hasn’t heard from him either.

“He’s had an extended curfew since he was a freshman, since he’s always worked late nights. But as an upperclassman you can get out of that with good grades. Ben does _not_ have good grades.” She had stressed. “And he definitely had classes today, so we totally noticed when he didn’t show up. He said he’d be sleeping out at somebody else’s place last night, but he never showed up to class and we’ve all been a little worried ourselves. It’s not like him.”

Unfortunately, they hadn’t allowed Hux to see the guy’s pod at all, and hadn’t given him any contact information, phone numbers and whatnot.

They did _call_ the guy’s phone for Hux, though, but the number they had was apparently old and now belonged to some guy named Matt, who sounded just infuriatingly enough _like_ Ben that Hux chewed him out for interfering with an emergency and hung up.

He stormed off afterwards, and made his way out the building.

*******

He takes the bus, despite his desire to do anything but go near the germ-infested thing, and ends up stuck on it for a stressful half hour as he tries to avoid touching anything or anyone, and attempts to figure out where he needs to get off at. He doesn’t drive, the anxiety from his service making it a hassle, but sometimes he still wishes he did.

He’s more than relieved to see the repair shop that he'd been aiming for, "Corellian Paint and Repair", which Ben has mentioned his family owning in the past, and hurriedly makes his way over across the street, where he can see someone working already.

It’s a small thing, cramped into a lot beside an old home, and looks pretty classic Americana, old signs and red white and blue paint chipping away at the sides.

Hux sees one man standing up in the memorabilia lined garage, and let's out a sigh of relief, deciding that he can at least _ask_ if the guy has seen Ben, and who knows, maybe he'll get lucky.

If this whole ordeal has taught him anything, it’s that he needs to get a fucking cellphone, even if they are bacteria traps and more trouble then they’re worth.

His eyes widen in surprise when the man turns to face him.

"Poe?" He asks.

Wiping grease from his fingers, the man smiles a gap-toothed grin.

“Red! What do I owe the honor of this visit to?”

“Coincidence." He grumbles sharply, not in the mood for formalities at the moment. "I was looking for Ben."

There’s an awkward silence, as Poe looks him over, mouth hanging open as if he doesn’t quite know what to say, and just blinks. A bad sign coming from Poe Dameron.

"Ben?" He asks, voice a little hoarse. "Oh he's - hey, wait! You're not his mystery boyfriend, are you?"

Hux flushes, not liking the way that Poe so awkwardly laughed that off, changing whatever he was going to say last second as if it might scare him.

"I wasn't aware I was a secret." He argues softly, looking down at the ground in dismay. “Is he okay?”

 

 

**-Ben-**

Ben, still not fond of driving, had had Finn drop him off at the grocery store earlier in the hopes of baking up the pie he’d promised himself he’d make.

He’d gone early, wanting to be done with this before noon so he wasn’t stuck going over to Hux’s at seven o’clock in the evening, and had already had a plan set out for making it.

Having only twenty dollars, he’d ended up spending nineteen, which was more than he’d wanted to, and so, had been looking over his list to see where everything went so wrong in his trip on his way out of the store.

The parking lot is usually pretty quiet, so he hadn’t even thought to look up when he’d gone to cross the street, but of course, that _would_ be his downfall.

The truck hits him and he never even saw it coming. A sudden flash of pain as he’s thrown beneath the vehicle and slammed across the pavement sends him sprawling, and strangely, the last thing he recalls before losing consciousness is just how damn nice the sun feels on his skin, despite there _being_ no sun, and him wearing a jacket.

*******

He wakes with a jolt, clawing out at somebody touching him, and is pinned by somebody else, the sound of an ambulance siren hollow in his head.

“Hey, Ben, relax, you’re really hurt, we can’t have you punching the doctor.” Finn’s voice is a little tight, though it’s obvious he’s trying to be light, and Ben glances over dazedly to look at him.

The movement sends pain searing through his brain, and he blacks out promptly.

They attempt to revive him.


	5. Hospital Pudding

**-Hux-**

The accident apparently occurred this morning, with Poe having been left to handle the business while literally everybody else in the family went to go sit and wait for him. Ben’s cousin, a girl whom Hux has never met, is at the hospital when Poe gets him there, as well as Finn, who apparently happened to see it happen.

Hux thinks he’s seen the guy at the coffee shop before, though he can’t be sure, and wonders what he knows.

He looks a bit shaken up, and truthfully, as they wait for Ben to get out of _surgery_ (fuck, that means he’s _seriously_ hurt), he seems to be the one getting the pudding cup and shock-recovery treatment.

“I got out of class early!” He explains, sounding a little panicked. “Texted him to tell him I’d pick him up so that he wouldn’t have to ride the bus home or walk or whatever. He was looking down at something when I first pulled in, and - fuck, do they know what the hell was up with that guy? He just sped through the place like a maniac! Almost hit a little kid!”

It’s obvious that his thoughts aren’t quite coming out as linearly as they should be, because then, the next thing he asks is,

“Do you think Ben was reading my text when he got hit?! I knew I should’ve called him instead, I just _knew_ it.”

“He’ll be _fine_.” Poe insists. “Don’t beat yourself up so much.”

“You didn’t _see_ him, Poe!” The man retorts, pacing the room suddenly. “He was all...” he makes some weird gesture in the air, as if he doesn’t quite have the words for it. “Messed up.”

Hux shivers.

*******

Finn is taken home to change into some real clothes, because his shirt had actually apparently been covered in Ben’s blood, just not visibly since he was wearing black.

Poe goes with him too, but Rey stays, leaving just she and Hux to awkwardly sit in Ben’s hospital room, while she arranges a flower vase she bought from the gift-shop and hums strange tunes to herself.

After a while though, she casts Hux a side-glance.

“Didn’t think I’d get you meet you so soon, y’know?” She laughs. “I was egging him on just yesterday to set up a get together.”

Hux blinks, not entirely sure what to say to that, and frowns.

“They wouldn’t tell me about his condition, because I’m not family. Do you know anything?”

She purses her lips, fluffing the flowers one final time, then frowns.

“Concussion, lots of flesh wounds, some broken bones, a little internal bleeding, and, uh, his arm got chewed up by the tires. I don’t know what they’re planning to do with him just yet, but he’s in bad shape.”

*******

Ben’s mother is the next member of the family to see him.

At first, he mistakes her for a nurse, sitting in Ben’s room, and he nearly panics that the worst has come to pass and she’s here to tell him the bad news, but then he sees that she’s actually leaving a gift for the boy. Chocolate, and a stack of fancy looking books.

She jumps when she finally notices Hux, and the two of them lock gazes for a moment, before she gives him a soft smile.

“The kids were _saying_ he had a boyfriend. Guess I should’ve expected to see you here at some point or another.”

Hux merely blinks at that, minor connections being made in his head as he notes her scrubs, and remembers Ben saying his mother was a doctor.

“Is this the hospital that you work at?”

“Not normally, no, but the clinic I typically supervise is owned by this establishment, so it didn’t take a-lot of rearranging to give me a temporary position here while Ben recovers. I won’t actually be treating him, but it’ll let me check up on him now and again anyway.”

She seems content with this, as she turns back to the books and starts flipping through them.

Hux swallows.

“Will he be okay?”

“Oh, yes, definitely.” She responds easily, lifting _that_ weight off his shoulders. “He’s perfectly stable, they’ve patched up his major injuries, and now they’ve moved on to little cosmetic things like cuts and scrapes while he’s still sleeping off the anesthesia.”

“Will he be there a while?”

“No, but he’ll probably sleep until tomorrow.”

“And how long will he be _here_?”

She doesn’t have an answer for that.

*******

Apparently the books his mother brought are the ones that his father lost all those years ago.

“I really thought he’d gotten them back.” She had explained softly. “But I found them two months ago entirely by accident, still untouched in the box they were sent home in.”

Hux runs his fingers over the soft leather in mild interest, each book a different color, with this one going so far as to have soft orange and white stripes on it, a logo of some sort embossed in the middle.

“He mentioned them to me recently.” He agrees, softly. “I was considering getting him a set of them for Christmas, but found none, anywhere.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t.” She says, causing him to glance up at her. “They never actually went to print outside of a small shop that’s been closed for years. We have a few copies floating around the family, but otherwise Anakin died before he could finish the publishing process.”

Hux blinks.

“Anakin?”

“My father.” She explains. “He actually hated being called ‘Annie’, but decided to use it as his pen name anyway because it was easier for people to pronounce. At least back then, now-a-days everybody has strange names.”

_So these were written by Ben’s grandfather, then. Interesting._

“Could I read them?”

“Go right ahead. You may as well have something to do while you wait.”

*******

“What happened to Ben’s father?” Hux asks, softly, glancing up from his reading after a few hours of silence.

Ben’s mother, (who insists he use her first name, Leia), looks up from Ben’s chart.

The injured man was finally put into his bed as of an hour ago, but is under such a concoction of sedatives and pain killers that he has yet to stir a muscle, wrapped up in gauze like a mummy, and tucked under the thin hospital blanket.

“He died.” She says softly after a moment, glancing down at Ben somewhat woefully. “Ben took it hard. He was a teenager at the time, so it wasn’t like he was too little to remember. And he’d already been having a difficult time with things to boot.”

“Like what?”

“Well, his ADHD was a-lot of it. Made it hard for him to keep up with his classmates, hard to make friends, and at that age his hormones were through the roof already, so he shrank into himself a bit. I’ll admit he got picked on a-lot too. His dad didn’t really understand that Ben isn’t the sort to handle things guns blazing, and that fist fights didn’t fix everything.” She laughs softly, as if remembering something humorous. “He and Ben were often at odds, but usually made up before dinnertime. Unfortunately, it was just after an argument that Han had his heart attack and I think Ben blames himself for riling the guy up. I was in the kitchen, but he was upstairs when it happened, and Ben was in the shop, so we didn’t find him until a while later.”

Her expression is solemn, and Hux wonders if he may have asked a more personal question than he really had any right to.

After a moment though, the mood lifts, and she glances up with a smile.

“I hear from Rey that he’s decided you’re worthy of his baking skills. He hasn’t been this crazy about anybody since he and Poe “dated” in middle school.” She snorts softly at the thought.

Hux blinks dumbly.

His old college roommate used to date Ben?

Still.

“His baking skills?” He asks, deciding he’ll pester Poe about it later, and not mess with it right now.

Leia smiles. “I used to make a pecan pie for holidays and anniverseries, because his dad loved them, so he kind of grew up thinking they were this whole symbol of undying love with the way Han liked to make a big deal about them. He had me show him how to make them when he was still in _elementary_ school, for a Thanksgiving party in his class, but came home afterwards mad because a-lot of kids didn’t like pecan pie, or thought it was weird, and hadn’t realized how much it meant to him, or possibly even that he made it mostly on his own. He decided that he’d only ever make them for people who deserved it, so his dad often got them as apologies, but aside from that and the occasional boyfriend, he just baked people what they liked best. Even _I_ got cherry cheesecake. So it really says a-lot that he picked pecan for you, and trusts that you’re deserving of it.”

Hux flushes, wondering how he would have dealt with the whole strange scenario had he not known this story, and smiles despite himself.

“Fortunately, I love pecan pie.”

*******

A short comment from Finn makes him realize that Ben was actually grocery shopping _for_ his baking ingredients when he was hit.

Hux tries not to let it become obvious how guilty he feels, as he studies the injured man’s prone and unconscious form in the hospital bed, but that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at him.

*******

After roughly three awkward hours of silence and restless waiting, Ben finally stirs - his sedatives lowered in dose.

This doesn’t change the fact that he’s heavily under the influence of painkillers, though, making him incredibly loopy even as he gives Hux a positively boyish smirk, half-asleep gaze looking him over.

His face is half bandaged, right eye blocked by the layers of gauze, despite it not actually being injured itself, and his right arm is nearly unrecognizable under its countless layers of tape and splinting, wrapped flush to his chest to keep him from moving it. They said they’ll probably have to amputate, that it’s unlikely he’ll ever be able to use it again, but had left it for now partially because he was too weak for such major surgery, and partially because they didn’t want him panicking first thing when he woke up.

Hux swallows back his anxiety, and smiles at Ben, lacing his fingers into the man’s good hand.

“Feeling okay?”

“Mmhm.”

It’s a sleepy, content little response, but one none-the-less, and so, despite the situation and his better judgement, Hux then leans down to give him a kiss on the lips..

The first he’s ever instigated.

Ben sits dumbly for a moment, sedative addled brain taking a moment to adjust, and then he closes his eye, and leans into it. He hardly offers much to it, apparently too high to calculate something so complex, but then he’s giggling, and Hux pulls away in mild alarm.

“Did I mess up?”

Ben’s still laughing, hardly sober enough to note the severity of Hux’s plight, and just laces his fingers back into the redhead’s shirt, trying to pull him back in.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss a ginger.”

Hux laughs despite himself.

“God, you really are high.”

“Yeah I’know.” He slurs sleepily, fingers falling away from Hux’s shirt weakly, as he relaxes back into the bed. “Feels nice.”

“Well that’s good, at least. Do you remember what happened to you?”

He makes a sound that could have a “nuh uh”, or a “mhm”, but doesn’t seem concerned either way, as he nods off to sleep again.

*******

The next time Ben wakes, startling Hux from a slight stupor of his own, the first thing he says is,

“What’s your first name?”

"My first name?" The redhead repeats drowsily, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he uses the other to push Ben’s blankets up more comfortably around the other man’s chest. “Why?”

“Cuz you’ve never tol’ me.”

Grinning despite himself, Hux leans down and presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple. “You sure you wanna know it?”

“ _Yes_." He whines. “Stop teasing.”

Hux snorts at the sheer childishness of it and nods. “Alright, fine. It’s August. August Brendol Hock.”

“Hock?" He asks softly, apparently nodding off again already. “Like the lawyer?"

"Exactly like the lawyer."

He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, “That’s cool.” and then is out cold again.

*******

Hux doesn’t sleep at all that evening, a little too nervous to do so, meaning that when Ben finally wakes back up again at two AM, he’s perfectly conscious for it and doesn’t miss a beat.

“August…?” Ben asks quietly, causing Hux to jerk to attention.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

He manages a sort of weird half shrug in response to that and looks away. “Was jus’ making sure that wasn’ a dream.” He explains drowsily, trailing off after a moment, only to frown at his lap and add. “Mm, my head feels weird.”

“Well, you are considerably medicated.” Hux reasons gently, scooting closer to Ben. “Also concussed. But as long as nothing hurts you should be okay. Alright? So if anything hurts, tell me.”

He nods his head sleepily.

“M’fine. Is my mom here?”

“She’s…” Hux pauses, frowning, because he actually isn’t entirely sure where the woman went. “Working, perhaps, but I could have them page her for you.’

Ben doesn’t bother acknowledging the offer much, as he instead bowls forward in the conversation with, “Is my dad coming?”

“Your dad?" He squawks.

“Haven’t seen him in a while...”

The redhead winces. “I’m, uh, sure he’ll come if he is able.”

“What about Luke?”

“Who?”

“Uncle _Luke_.” He repeats, whining a little in apparently frustration. “I haven’t seen him in a long time either.

Hux smiles sheepishly, wondering if there’s a potential reason for that, and shrugs. “I’ll see what we can do, alright?”

“I’m a li’l sleepy.” He offers softly in explanation for his loopiness.

“Yeah? Do you want to nap again?”

“’M hungry...” He retorts instead, brows knit in thought. “,you get pudding in hospitals right, can I get pudding?”

Hux smiles sheepishly. It has been over twenty four hours since either of them really ate. “I’ll see what the doctors say about you eating with that stomach wound of yours.”

“Dark chocolate pudding?” He chances.

“If they have it.”

Ben appears to zone out a little, staring a bit blankly at the wall for a moment, before he says.

“My dad used to buy me a milkshake whenever I saw the doctor”

“Any particular kind?”

“Cherry chocolate chip.” He responds, in a way that makes Hux suspect the man really wants one now.

“I’ll see if I can find somewhere that sells that flavor.”

His face lights up more than it really has any right to at that.

*******

“The doctors said you should probably eat.” Hux tells him a little bit later, after asking just to make sure. “Your mom brought this candy for you while you were still out, so if you want to nibble on it while I get some other stuff put together, you can.”

Ben looks a bit like he might cry from the sheer sentiment alone, but instead just nods, holding the small chocolate box a bit reverently as if he hadn’t expected to be given any get well gifts at all.

The redhead decides not to mention the books just yet.

*******

As far as pudding goes, he can probably get that, and some pie in the cafeteria, as well as some real food, though he thinks Ben’s stomach may be a little weak for that with him as heavily medicated as he still is.

As for a milkshake, he’ll probably just have to wait for the Blue Bunny to open down the street, since it’s still only around seven AM right now, and bring that to Ben for lunch at a later time.

After actually reaching the cafeteria though, Hux finds that the lunch bar is uncomfortably exposed to the touches of God knows what sorts of people, and decides to take his chances at an actual store later.

To make matters worse, Ben has the audacity to give him puppy eyes about it when he shows back up in the room empty handed.

“They ran out of the Chocolate.” Hux offers feebly as he approaches. “And the brand sucked anyway! I’ll pick up the good stuff from the store when I get your milkshake. Alright?”

Ben sniffs unhappily at that, looking a little more teary-eyed about the lack of pudding than he has any right to be, but bobs his head in agreement none-the-less. Hux figures it’s only natural that his emotions would be a bit frayed right now, after all the other nonsense he’s been going through and feels bad for making things worse.

“Do you want me to go right now?” He asks softly, sitting down beside the man gently. “I’d hurry.”

“No!” He cries in alarm, hand tightening around Hux’s own rather fearfully. “I want you to stay.”

Hux winces, not liking this look on his boyfriend much, and shushes him softly, reaching out with his other hand to soothe it over his exposed cheek. “You haven’t eaten real food in nearly two days, sweetheart, and I can’t imagine that’s comfortable...” The further saddening look his boyfriend gives him makes him stop mid-sentence, though, and abruptly do some damage control with a rushed, “You know what? I’ll call Mitaka, he can pick some things up, and I’ll sit right here with you the whole time while we wait.”

“Okay...” He says, sounding a little relieved, only to frown, trailing off after a moment and ask, “Can I get breadsticks too, then?”

*******

“It’s the same as your tattoo.” Ben mumbles, eyeing the black and red afghan as Hux tucks him into it, probably never having seen it lain out flat like this before, nor having known what the symbol meant anyway.

“Phasma made it for my birthday.” He concedes, glancing up to meet Ben’s gaze. The man’s been taken off some of his medications, so he’s a little more lucid than before, but there’s still an inhibition there that is making him silly.

“When’s your birthday?”

The redhead laughs softly at that. “November 12th. But I’ve never really been one to celebrate my birthday, so don’t bother throwing me a party or anything.”

“I do what I want.” He grumbles mutinously, and the redhead is almost glad that his birthday has already passed.

“Yeah? So tell me when _your_ birthday is.”

Ben lights up, clearly having a better relationship with the date than Hux does. “November 19th.” He says excitedly. “So we should do a double-birthday next year.”

“You think so?”

“I _know_ so. And come all the winter holidays we can be domestic and in love, and it’ll be amazing.”

Hux bursts out laughing at that.

“Hell, and I thought you were starting to sober up!”

“Psh, I think mom doubled my morphine the last time she was in here.”

“Wow...I should have Rey record this.”


	6. Stay With Me?

**-Hux-**

Ben is sleepy and getting sore from the decrease in drugs by the time Mitaka and Phasma arrive with lunch. They came in earlier, just to drop off the blanket, some overnight bags for the both of them, and make small talk, but left again to handle the food order.

As promised, Mitaka has a milk-shake for Ben, cherry chocolate chip of course, while Phasma brings the pudding, along with a few quips about the odds of a hospital being out of pudding, and then goading Hux into admitting he just didn’t want to touch the food bar.

With the green light from the doctor for Ben to start eating real food, they also pack along a calzone for the injured man and he to share, taking into consideration the demand for breadsticks that Hux had only jokingly mentioned to them, as well as a nice cinnamon roll for dessert if he thinks he’s still hungry after everything else.

Phasma starts seperating the calzone halves onto paper plates.

"Half cheese, half pepperoni." She explains, handing Hux the cheese half of the calzone, and Ben the other. "Figured you'd both need some real food, but with Ben eating all this other junk, and you never eating a-lot anyway, I didn’t think either of you need a whole one.”

Ben just hums gratefully in response to that, sipping on his milkshake as he takes the plate, and Hux takes a relieved bite of his own food, realizing he was a-lot hungrier than he thought.

"So where's the guy who hit you at?" Phasma eventually asks, causing Ben to look up blankly and just shrug.

"Dunno. Haven’t heard much."

Hux frowns thoughtfully, not entirely sure why he hadn’t thought to ask that himself, though he can’t imagine the dumbass is gonna get off scott-free with this whole thing.

"And how are you _feeling_?” She asks, voice lilting hopefully.

Ben blinks.

"Good, I guess...”

She smiles, apparently pleased with the response. "And what's under the bandages, soldier?"

"Uh...well...” He frowns in confusion for a moment, as if trying to remember, then starts pointing them out. “The one in my side is where they had to cut me open to stop the bleeding, the one on my face is apparently a huge cut that I got from some metal on the truck, I haven't looked yet but they said it'll be a nasty scar, and...well, this one on my arm...I guess I didn’t miss _all_ the tires.”

Hux swallows, having nearly forgotten about the condition of the man’s arm, and wonders how it feels.

Mitaka looks a little horrified. “W...what’s gonna happen with it?”

"I'll be fine!” He laughs suddenly, brightening up in only the way Ben can. “I’m left handed."

*******

Once Mitaka and Phasma leave, Hux, again stays behind to keep Ben company, and after quickly taking a shower in the adjoined bathroom, sits down on the bed with him.

“So...I’m guessing you’re not gonna be going to the dorms while you recover.”

Ben blinks, the food definitely having helped sober him up a bit, and frowns.

“Nah...guess I’ll be staying with my mom.”

“Do you want to?”

He pauses, biting his lip softly, and sighs, glancing away. “I mean...not really. I moved to the dorms to get away from the house. I could stay with Poe and them...but it’s so crowded over there...and just, not a very relaxing environment.”

There’s a moment of silence as Hux considers this, tracing the lines of Ben’s good arm gently as he thinks, and eventually responds.

“If you’d like, you could stay with me.”

“What?! No! I don’t want to be a bother for you!”

“You _wouldn’t_ be! My apartment is really lonely when you’re not around...and I wouldn’t mind having you at all. You’re good about my rules, and I like seeing you there.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”


	7. August

**-Hux-**

Apparently grocery shopping is harder than it looks when you’re buying for someone who isn’t yourself, but, unfortunately, necessary if he’s gonna be getting a roommate.

Thankfully, Ben's mother helps him write up a list for him at the hospital, while Mitaka, strangely enough, accompanies him on the shopping trip itself.

"Ben _hates_ peppers." The mousey man cuts in suddenly, just as Hux moves to grab a container of bell pepper spaghetti sauce from the shelf. "He won't even eat anything they've touched."

Hux cocks a brow in the man's general direction, but then sighs.

"Why do you even know this?"

"I cook dinner on movie night.” He murmurs, sifting through the other jars of sauce on the shelf. “Which you'd know, if you bothered coming."

Hux snorts and rolls his eyes at that, as he scans over the ingredients of a new jar of sauce he’s been handed in mild disgust.

"On second thought, I think I'm gonna make my own."

*******

"You know the organic is three times more expensive, right?" Mitaka asks skeptically, turning over a sad little avocado in his fingers. "Ben's not gonna care if you just get regular groceries."

"I'm buying what's good for him." Hux snaps, stealing it back. "Not what's cheap! And it's not as if I can't afford it."

"You’re an author! You can’t possibly make that much."

Hux inhales grumpily at that comment, but rather than responding grabs two more avocados and storms off.

*******

He eyes a bag of pecans quietly for a moment, then relents, grabbing them from the shelf.

*******

He manages a full cart of groceries at both stores he visits, in addition to toiletries and other things that Ben might need, and so in the end, finds himself in the posession of _a-lot_ of ingredients, but not a-lot of know-how on how to use them.

Which is where Mitaka comes in again.

"You're a good cook." Hux mumbles, gesturing vaguelly to the heap of vegetables he's acquired. "What do we do with these?"

"Well." The man muses, obviously trying not to laugh. "Since Ben’s the cook out of the two of you, and he’s hurt, I say let's put together some premade things to jar up and freeze, so that nobody has to hassle with anything. From these alone we can make purees, sauces, and soups, and since you were so adament about not buying canned vegetables in the first place, we can cook the leftover ones and can them ourselves without all the sodium added."

Hux nods skeptically, glancing over at the other groceries that still need put away and sighs.

"Why don't you put together the ingredients for that, while I tend to these things?"

Mitaka nods pleasantly.

*******

The mousey man attempts to teach Hux how to cook and preserve the foods as he works, but the majority of it just goes over his head, to the point that he just ends up getting politely shooed off and given smaller less-ruinable tasks to tend to instead of the ones that Mitaka is handling.

Since Hux bought a few items in relative bulk, such as berries, he shoves all but a carton or two of each in Mitaka's direction, before putting those in the fridge with the milk, and figuring they can eat them for breakfast with oats. He knows Ben’s tastes aren’t quite as...colonial as Hux’s, but he can’t really see the guy being too mad about berries over cereal and it’s not like he doesn’t have granola.

Once things start falling into place, he even manages to find a few tasks for himself to accomplish without being told, such as making whipped cream to go _with_ the berries on the top shelf, as well as some butter and honey-butter and a few other miscellaneous condiments.

Since he knows Ben has a fondness for frozen foods, he makes some buckwheat waffles, some chocolate chip, some blueberry, some cinnamon, and some plain, and freezes them. He also makes some strawberry yogurt popsicles, and attempts to make a quart of his mom's old ice-chest gelato, crossing his fingers when he tosses the caramel pecan slurry into the freezer for setting.

Mitaka bags some of the excess berries he didn't use in cooking, as well as some vegetables that he didn't want to can or couldn't fit in the refrigerator, and tosses them in with everything else.

Since Hux somewhat vehemently refused to buy any meat, homemade black bean burgers and vegetarian taco filling make up what space is left.

*******

By the time they're done with the cooking, the sun is beginning to set, and Mitaka is worn out, eating a bowl of berries, cream, and granola with the cinnamon bread Hux just pulled from the bread machine.

*******

"Should I...set up the guest bedroom for him? Or put his things in my room?" Hux mumbles, flushing a little as he ponders this conundrum.

Phasma, sent over as Mitaka's replacement after he collapsed snoring on their couch, laughs.

"Both. Give him space to keep his things in the guest room, personal belongings and knicknacks, but make sure he knows he's welcome in your space too, and set a toothbrush out for him in your bathroom."

He nods, drinking in all this new information.

*******

Even he’s running low on energy by the end of the evening, but, with still one final task to handle, he sucks it up, and sighs, glancing over at Phasma.

“I know you saved my grandma’s cookbook. Can I have it?”

 

 

-Ben-

He's sore, he's stressed, and he's in a bad mood now that Hux is gone to distract him from it. Naturally, the drama keeps on coming.

"He's in no condition to be released this early!" His mother argues audibly from the hallway. "I _know_! I'm a surgeon!"

"A cardiologist." The doctor hisses. "And I assure you, once he decides what he wants done with his arm, he’ll recover quite quickly, no matter what path we take."

He hears her say something else, but muffles it out with a pillow over his head.

When the silence settles, he removes it to see the doctor standing there patiently, and growls.

"Just amputate it, already.”

-Hux-

"What?! Why?! He’s in surgery?!" Hux stammers. “Why didn’t anybody call me?!”

"We didn’t have your contact information." Leia sighs tiredly, rubbing her temples. "As for why, the doctor’s are trying to minimize his stay as much as possible so they tossed him under the knife the second he gave them permission.”

"And they _let_ him pick amputation?!"

"He's an adult!" She snaps. "And it’s not like he would have ever used the arm again anyway. It would’ve just been dead weight.”

" _I_ could have paid for the physical therapy!" He hisses, frustration leeching. "I have more than enough money to do it! He shouldn’t have to lose his limb over this stupid incident!"

She looks a little surprised by that, but instead of commenting, simply says.

"I think it was more than just the money. The recovery time for an amputation is almost a third of what his physical therapy would have been. It's possible he would have chosen this option regardless of the cost, and I wasn’t exaggerating when I said the odds of him healing were bleak.”

Hux isn’t hearing it.

"Make them stop the surgery so I can talk to him! He’s making a mistake!"

She opens her mouth to speak, probably to say something along the lines of, “You’re his boyfriend, not his boss.” but a doctor interrupts them, tapping her gently on the shoulder, to pull her out of his hearing range and discuss something.

The blatant disregard for his presence irks him, and when Leia gasps, he promptly rushes over, gritting out a hardly subdued, “Did you hurt Ben?”

Leia lets out an exasperated sigh at that, and the doctor simply laughs.

"Quite the opposite. There was some damage to the major blood vessels in his arm. Minor nicking that we didn't quite pick up on in the midst of everything else that's been happening, and were unable to see beneath his bandages. His fingers had already lost much of their circulation and wouldn’t have made it even if we had tried saving the limb itself.”

Hux swallows, temper dying to a mild smolder. "So...it's good that he chose amputation, then?"

“If we’d waited any longer the risk of it going gangrenous would had been very real.”

Hux gulps at the thought, cheeks burning gently as he looks away.

“Well...is there anything we should do to get ready for his return?”

The man shrugs. "To expedite his return home you could schedule his discharge in advance, and I'd reccomend visiting with the physical therapist for aftercare tips and potential resources if you’d like to. You could prepare your home to make him more comfortable once he’s discharged, and of course, since he did sign a consent of release form regarding his bills and dues, you could start putting together a payment plan for him to give him less to worry about."

The redhead blinks in surprise at that, and glances over at Leia.

"I can handle the finances."

She seems to think better than to question it.

 

 

**-Ben-**

Apparently he was under his mother’s insurance?...huh.

He comes to learn this strange fact just after he wakes up, when she visits him the day after his operation.

"I didn't know I was even under your plan..." He begins, for probably the third time that evening, as he wonders if he could have been taking advantage of that for dental and eye care.

The woman smiles apologetically. "You weren't really paying attention when you signed the forms." She responds, sounding a little sheepish as she glances over at Hux for some reason. "And since they determined the amputation necessary it's going to be paid for fully."

He sighs in relief, not even having realized that this was something he’d been stressed about.

"And what about physical therapy?” He asks. “They said...uh, that I’ll probably need some to get used to everything."

Hux nods firmly, taking a seat beside him. "Also covered. Phasma has a degree in physical therapy and said she’d handle it.”

"Oh wow...that’s really nice.”

The redhead smiles lovingly at him, in a way that makes him want to tear up for some reason.

“Yeah, so just rest now, we’ll handle everything for you.”

“Okay, August.”


	8. Christmas Lights

**-Hux-**

Ben is obviously trying to tough things out, but failing miserably.

He's been home for four days now, and has been trying his hardest to be a little more active around the home, but, as day five draws on, it's becoming obvious that all he's doing is wearing himself out.

As of now, he looks as if he’s going to faint, and has a moderately high fever.

Hux ushers him back to the bedroom.

For the past few days Ben has been sleeping in the guest room, not wanting to be a bother to Hux, but this time, the redhead makes a point of pushing him into what he’s been trying to explain is their _shared_ room, where he tucks him in swiftly into the afghan that’s been floating around the house since they made it home, and kisses him on the temple.

"Sleep." He intones, falsely stern, as he presses another kiss to forehead, noting a fever. "You just need to rest. There’s plenty of time to wander aimlessly around in the house in future, but now isn’t it. I'll bring you something to eat in a bit."

"But it's so boring in here." He wheedles, despite making no attempt to flee again. “And I’ve already read my old books _four_ times!”

"I'll have Phasma bring over her movie collection, if you want. You can watch them on my laptop." Hux chuckles. “She has movies that aren’t yet.”

He pouts a little at that, apparently not finding it very appealing, and makes as if to cross his arm, only to have it falter when he realizes he can’t do that anymore and tear up. It makes Hux feel guilty.

Ben calms himself with a few deep breaths, though it’s obvious by the way he’s knotting his fingers into the sheets that it got to him and is now accutely aware of his phantom pains. Or in his case, phantom itch, which has even gone so far as to wake him up in the middle of the night, mumbling about bees under his skin.

"Can I read the story you've been writing instead?" He asks softly, after a moment, voice a bit tight as his he practices some of his more subtle breathing techniques.

Hux blinks, a little surprised by the question. "Huh? Do you really want to?"

"Of course I want to!” He cries, looking a bit scandalized by the suggestion that he wouldn’t.

The redhead simply smiles. “Even though you’ve been peeking at it nonstop since you got here and already know what happens?”

A sharp red flush crosses over Ben’s features, and he drops his gaze. Hux notes with some satisfaction though, that his hand has stopped twitching in the throes and that he probably isn’t thinking about the arm anymore.

“You’re writing a sequel to my grandpa’s series...my mom told me.”

“Yes, I read them while I was sitting in the hospital with you. They’re very nicely done.” He agrees, smiling, though he doesn’t mention that he intends to edit the original six for publishing very soon, with all royalties going to a trust-fund for Ben, who was apparently given the legal rights to the series by his mother and uncle Luke when he turned eighteen.

If all goes to plan, Ben will be on the fast-track to attend a college of his _own_ choosing, and will get to study in any trade he wants to.

 

 

**-Ben-**

“You made me a villain?” He asks, grinning into Hux’s neck as the two of them lie tucked together in bed, going over the manuscript for the novel. As it turns out, Ben doesn’t like to read because he has an awful time focusing on the letters. Hux suspects dyslexia to be the most likely culprit, though he remembers Leia mentioning ADHD as well, and so, has decided to read the story _to_ Ben, despite always having cringed at reading his own writing to others, when he can see their reactions to it.

“Villains are more fun to write.” He agrees unapologetically, smiling softly as he runs his fingers through the younger man’s curly hair. “Besides, if we ever break up, I won’t have to feel like an idiot for making you a mary-sue good guy when I look back on the series.”

Ben snorts, rolling his eyes. “So how much of him is actually based on me?”

“Everything except the evilness, I suppose. Well, and the storyline.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Nah, a sap would’ve written a romance novel.”

“Writing me as a character in the sequel to my favorite series is still pretty cheesy.” He retorts. “Next thing you know you’re gonna be proposing to me in the acknowledgements section.”

Hux just smirks, and tosses the manuscript aside, much to Ben’s disdain.

“How about we finish the rest later? I have a surprise for you.”

Ben’s cheeks redden immediately at the statement, and the author decides to save him the embarrassment of his misunderstanding by climbing promptly out of bed and smiling.

“I mean I’ve made you something, get your head out of the gutter.”

While that was probably a low blow, Ben laughs despite himself, and nods awkwardly. “Okay, fine. Give me a second.”

The man’s still getting used to pulling himself upright without two arms to do it, but manages pretty well, and only stumbles a little bit when he climbs out of bed, the apparent change in his weight distribution being one of the things he’s been having more difficulty with than anything as he regains his balance.

After he’s certain he won’t do something silly like slam into the doorframe on the way out, he smiles at Hux, and follows him out of the room.

*******

His eyes go wide when he sees the pie.

“You...you, uh, you made me a pie.” He squeaks, holding his hand over the top as if to verify it’s actually hot and he didn’t just buy it from the store. “How come I didn’t smell it cooking.”

“I made it at Phasma’s when you napped earlier.” Hux chuckles, already cutting a piece onto a plate for Ben, alongside a scoop of caramel pecan gelato. “She dropped it off while we were reading.”

Ben looks a bit like he’s going to cry, but when Hux sets the plate down on the table for him , and then goes about fixing a plate for himself.

There’s some hot chocolate that he pulls from the stove once he’s done, and pours into mugs, alongside a heap of marshmallows and whipped cream.

The lights are down fairly low, making it cozy as the two of them sit quietly at the table together.

Snow drifts down slowly outside the living room window, and Hux watches it with amusement, as he sips his drink and eats his dessert.

Ben seems to be looking too, now.

Neither of them mention it, but it’s obvious that they’re both thinking the same thing.

Without the snow, it’s likely that neither of them would have ever met.

Instead he says.

“You kissed me in the hospital.”

Hux blushes.

“I did, yes.”

Ben casts those big brown eyes of his back to Hux, and looks almost hopeful.

“Would you kiss me again?”

After nearly responding with a startled, _’Right now?’_ , Hux decides to keep his trap shut, and instead, stands, making his way around the table slowly with a small grin quirking his lips.

Ben is watching him innocently, sizing him up with something warm and lovely in his eyes, and shivers just the least bit when Hux cups his face in his right hand, tilting his jaw up as he leans down.

The kiss is soft, and gentle, and warm to their cores.

When it breaks, their gazes remain locked for a moment, and Hux says,

“We need to put up the Christmas tree tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Ben asks softly, studying him in apparent awe.

He nods. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that's a pretty lame ending, but no worries cause I'm totes planning a sequel, and in said sequel we'll get awesome things like:  
> #Physical therapy angst  
> #Germaphobe Hux angst  
> #Hux's backstory angst  
> #Finn and Ben backstory Angst  
> #Other things I didn't get around to explaining Angst

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me over at Kevin-the-chicken.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this monster of a fic, lol


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